


Honor

by bluebirds_singing



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jon and Sansa Are Not Related, Jon doesn't go to the Wall, Sansa-centric, sansa is not a Stark - Freeform, the vale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-03-17
Packaged: 2019-02-12 07:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12954612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebirds_singing/pseuds/bluebirds_singing
Summary: “Could I bring you to the Vale?” Sansa hesitantly asked, looking at Jon.“I am a bastard, Lady Arryn, a bastard who belongs in the North," Jon replied.****Sansa Arryn has lived in Winterfell for most of her life as a ward of Lord Stark's. However, with the death of her father Lord Jon Arryn, the time for her to become the Lady of Vale arrived. Leaving Winterfell would be the hardest thing Sansa ever had to do, but leaving behind Jon Snow would not be an option for her.





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

  
The Godswood was cold and thin rain lightly fell from the sky, in a few hours it would most likely harden into a light summer snow. The cold air was her only comfort as she stared at her reflection into the dark deep pond, her eyes red and puffy from tears matching. Even in the scared Godswood, she could still hear the bells ringing. Since her time in Winterfell, she heard the bells ring when Rickon arrived into the world and for every birthday of the other Stark children. The bells were meant for happy news, but today they signified the end of a life, her father’s. Jon Arryn had died, leaving behind his one and only child, herself, Lady Sansa Arryn of the Vale. The news of her father death hadn’t been the most heartbreaking, but the thought of leaving her childhood home, Winterfell, and everyone that she had grown to love broke her. Jon Arryn had shipped her off to Winterfell to live with her mother’s sister and her husband at the tender age of seven, claiming that Kings Landing was not safe enough for the only heir to Vale to grow up in. Sending her to Winterfell was the only good thing Sansa could think her father did for her, his worse crime against her was leaving her no brother or even sister to share the burden that was the Vale.

  
The familiar barking of dire wolves reached her ears, and Sansa sighed. She had been discovered. After Lord Stark had broken the news to her that father had died, she had sought solace away from the Stark children. They were the closest thing she had to siblings and Sansa truly did love them dearly, but they did not understand her pain. More importantly, they would never understand her fear of leaving Winterfell, because she knew the moment she stepped out of the North she would never truly be able to return. Sansa belonged to the East now, where the mountains rose high into the sky and numerous trained knights who held themselves to the code of the Seven. The Vale was not home to her, she had been born there, and had a few scarce memories from the view visits to her own lands. In honestly, Winterfell was her home. The first time she heard its name spoken, it seemed to be a ray of light in a dark moment.

  
_The familiar pink walls of her small room in the Hand’s Tower reached the seven year’s old eyes as she opened her eyes. Pain surged through her small frail body, and she turned to see her beloved Papa. His eyes looked concerned, but her Papa was always concerned. Her mother said it was because he was busy running the country, and Sansa knew her father was a good man. Although she was never far away from him, she barely saw him. So it was a surprise to see him beside her and not her beloved Septa Mordane. She opened her mouth to speak, but her throat was on fire and hurt even to breathe._

  
_“Hush, my little one,” Her Papa said. His hand gently brushing her tears away that trailed down her face from the pain. “You’ll be given more milk of the poppy to ease_ in _the pain in a few hours, you’ve had your fill for now.”_

  
_Sansa didn’t understand what her Papa was saying, but she took comfort as he pressed a kiss_ on _her forehead. “You are my heir, Sansa, and I’ve failed at keeping you safe,” he paused and smiled at her. “I am going to send you somewhere very, very safe and loving. You are going to Winterfell, and will be fostered there until its safe for you to return to me.”_

  
_Winterfell. She didn’t know what was in store there for her, but Sansa was sure it was better than the place she lived now. So many times she had cried and had been hurt in the Red Keep. Papa didn’t know. If he had_ know _he wouldn’t let it happen, and she always been told he wouldn’t believe her. Sansa though was relieved that her father had stopped it, and this Winterfell couldn’t be anywhere near the Red Keep or else they would have visited. Her Papa was the smartest man she knew, and if he said Winterfell was safe and loving then it would be._

  
Her thoughts were broken as the familiar gray dire wolf snuggled up to her side, she was happy her wolf, Lady, had found her, but not so happy that a white one was also at her side. The white direwolf was Jon Snow’s and Sansa knew that Ghost did not stray far from his master, but she could not bear to see Jon right now.

  
“You are going to freeze to death,” the deep baritone voice that always warmed her soul spoke. Before she could even turn around to face him, Sansa felt a thick cloak resting on her shoulders and the smell alone made her realize it was Jon’s. The scent invaded her senses, it was simply intoxicating, and she hated how he made her feel so girlish even in her weakest moment.

  
“Who sent you?” Sansa asked as he sat next to her, his gray eyes showing a concern that she had never seen before.

  
“Lady and Ghost,” Jon answered with a small smile. “Direwolves are fickle things they know when their owners are upset.”

  
Sansa nodded and stroke Lady’s fur. Lady was a beast of the North, who was meant to run in thick, flush, forests that held dense snows in even the warmest of summers. The East would be no place for a direwolf and Sansa secretly wondered if she would be allowed to keep Lady. After all, she was an Arryn, and the direwolf was the sigil of the Starks and not her house. The only reason she had been granted Lady was because Lord Stark was her uncle and she was the cousin to all of the Stark children.

  
“Do you think I can bring Lady with me?” Sansa asked, her voice cracking as she tried to hold back the tears.

  
“Sansa, you are Lady of the Vale now,” Jon stated. “You can bring Lady if you wish, and don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

  
Quite engulfed them for a few moments as she stroke Lady. The direwolf was not the only thing she wished to bring East with her. Since she was seven years old, Sansa Arryn had loved Jon Snow. Rather if he loved her or not, Sansa never knew. He was a bastard, a bastard that’s step-mother reminded him of his place every chance she got. In Winterfell, Sansa knew she could never act on her feelings toward Jon if she wished to save him from Catelyn Stark’s torment, and perhaps he realized the same. When given the chance it was Jon's arm she took to be escorted around the keep or to be helped onto a horse. However, other then a few stolen glances did she allow herself to perform any bolder actions. Perhaps, it was time for her to slowly begin acting on her feelings. After all, her Lady Aunt held no power over her now.

“Could I bring you to the Vale?” Sansa hesitantly asked, looking at Jon. She took in his perfect rosy kips, how he was in need of a good shave, and his mop of curls on his head perhaps needed a slight trim. However, he was the perfect mess in her opinion.

  
“I am a bastard, Sansa,” He said as he slowly stood. “A bastard who belongs in the North,”

  
Sansa snapped her attention back to the pond. She would not watch him leave, she would not give him the pleasure of seeing her heartbreak for the second time today. For her heart had truly only loved one man and had it not been her father, it had been Jon Snow. The pain she felt of losing her father was not because of a love lost, but the realization she never had a father. Jon Arryn had spent too much of their seven years together serving the king night and day before sending her off. Ned Stark cared for her as a father, but he did not love her. Robb saw her as a sister, but he would jump in front of Arya before herself. Of all the men surrounding her, Jon had always seemed to truly care for her. He was an honest person, who did not seek to harm her or lie to her. Now, she knew though, she realized how false she was. She realized he did not love. No man would ever truly love her. So her heart broke for a second time, as Sansa Arryn realized she would not be loved by the one she loved so much.

* * *

 

Sansa had avoided him ever since the day of her father’s death. Jon couldn’t blame her, he hated himself for turning her down. All his life twos thing never changed, the fact that he was a bastard and that Sansa Arryn was the most beautiful girl ever to live. He was no fool though, he knew a bastard like him would never have a chance with a girl like her. Sansa was Lady of the Vale, even though she still resided in Winterfell until the King came and left, she was still a great lady who would wed another. One day either by Sansa’s decision or another powerful lord’s, she would be married for the good of her realm. A bastard like himself had nothing to give her, and Sansa needed a man that would protect her status and not harm it.

  
Disgruntled with himself, Jon couldn’t help but comment as he watched the barber shave Robb. “Why is your mother so dead set getting us pretty for the Queen?” Sansa was to leave after meeting with King and Queen, she hadn’t even been able to go to her own father’s funeral due to the fact she had to wait for the royal family to arrive for Winterfell.

  
“I bet it’s for the Queen.” Theon smirked. “I hear she’s a slinky little mink.”

  
Robb titled his head to the side to let the barber get the last spot on his neck. “I hear the Prince is a royal little prick.”

  
“But think of all the southern girls he gets to stab with that right royal prick,” Theon remarked with a grin on his face.

  
Jon rolled his eyes. He didn’t care about girls and he could care less about sleeping around like Theon. “Go on Tommy,” Robb instructed as he stood up, so Jon could take his place on the stool. “Shear him good, he’s never met a girl he likes better then his hair,” he laughed.

  
Jon sighed as he heard the scissors begin taking off his hair. Once he recalled that Sansa always seemed to compliment him after he got it cut, but today he knew wouldn’t be one of those days. Oh, he missed talking to her or being the boy that she always asked to help on her horse, even if Robb was nearby. Jon would never admit that he fancied her because Sansa was too special for his affections. One day, she would be a great lady, living high among the mountains of the Vale, and he would be a lowly bastard.

  
“Stop with brooding, Snow,” Robb said he clapped his shoulder after they had put their tunics on cloaks back on after they were done being prettied up for the clean. “Just apologize to Sansa, so you two can go back to mooning over each other.” He instructed.

  
Jon stopped in his steps, they were out in the hall where everyone could hear. “I don’t moon over Lady Arryn, Robb,” Jon stated, glancing around to see if anyone was around them. Luckily Theon was sneaking off to Wintertown, and wasn’t in their presence or else he would be subjected to more dirty comments.

  
“Since when do refer to Sansa as Lady Arryn?” Robb crossed his arms.

  
“I don’t know what-

  
Robb shoved him a little bit, and Jon simply took it. “Sansa is my cousin, and like a little sister, and you are a fool if don’t realize she’s in love with you.”

  
The words coming out of Robb’s mouth filled him with dread. Sansa was in love with him and he would never get to love her like she deserved to be love. “It doesn’t matter Robb, you forget that I am your half-brother. A Snow. The best thing I can do for Sansa is to not return any feelings.”

  
“You may be fine with being miserable for the rest of your life, but what about my cousin?” Robb asked as Jon stormed away.

  
Sansa didn’t deserve to be miserable. Loving him would only make life harder. After all, the love his family had for him only caused them trouble. Their mother never approved of him, and if his own family couldn’t love him without disapproving glares, there why would Sansa be able to. His mind was swirling with a thousand thoughts, and before he knew it he found himself in front of Sansa right outside the Godswood.

  
“Sansa,” he breathed out. Ever since the death of her father, her dresses had become a little more elaborate. Perhaps to signify that fact she was no longer a simple Lady but the Lady of a Realm. The light blue dress she wore had the finest silver designs on it, and her cloak a fine light fur that was almost white. Although the dress was stunning, she was more stunning. The red hair of hers was swept away from her face making those stunning eyes of her more striking.

  
“Jon,” she replied with a straight face. “I was beginning to think that you forgot how to speak to me.”

  
Jon wondered if he had because when he went to open his mouth the words didn’t come out. Sansa sighed. “Why are you going to the Godswood? I thought Lady Stark sent the lads to get properly cleaned.”

  
She hadn’t noticed his haircut. “I got my haircut,” Jon said disappointingly.

  
“I’ll see you later, when the King arrives I assume,” she said before going to step away.

  
He didn’t know what took all of him, but he grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving his presence. Sansa looked at him, eyes wide with shock. “I am sorry for hurting you, Sansa,” he paused to form his next words. His heart was telling him to stop, to just pull her close and hold her and never let go. The honor in him, the very notion of tainting her just by loving her, told him not to. “I should not have acted the way I have.”

  
“Am I suppose to apologize now for caring for you the way I do, now? So, you can brush this off like it never happened and I can just go on loving you in the distance and you not knowing the difference?” Her words were harsh and spiteful.

  
Jon released her arm and took a long deep breath. “Sansa, I am going to join the Night’s Watch,” he had only one discussion with his father about it, and Eddard Stark had denied vehemently. “My calling is to serve the North, and maybe there I can make a name for myself.”

  
Sansa was struggling to keep a straight face, and he saw her ball her small gloved hands into fists. “Do you care only about yourself? The Night’s Watch is a selfish decision, you rob your father of grandchildren from you and future nieces and nephew an uncle.”

  
“My siblings and I know our Uncle Benjen,” The statement was true, he knew his Uncle in black and loved him well.

  
Sansa shook her head. “You let your bastard status define you, Jon. You could be as a great as a man as Uncle Ned one day if you wanted too, but you won’t look past your biggest fault and it's not even one you caused,” she said before walking away quickly from him.

  
Jon sighed and walked slowly to the weirwood tree. Sansa didn’t pray to the Old Gods, he knew, but she sought solace in the Godswood. It was peaceful and beautiful, the finest one in all of Westeros. There would not be as fine as Godswood at the Wall, but Jon knew it was the place for him. He would be away from Sansa, just as good as dead, and she would be able to move on. She would find a man worthy of her truly, and he would perhaps learn to get over his own name.

* * *

 

“Your father was a good man,” The King sat in Lord Stark’s chair in the Great Hall where the Lord of Winterfell received complaints from his people. After demanding to see Lyanna, the women he started a war for, the King had asked for a private audience with her. Sansa was not surprised, she knew the King would most likely ask her to bend the knee in private and swear fealty to him, to spare herself and Winterfell from even more pageantry.

  
“He was honored to spend the last of years as you Hand, Your Grace,” Sansa replied politely. Jon Arryn was more of a father to the King then he was to her. Robert had spent most of his life in the Vale, and she knew the respect he had for her father was more then she held.

  
“I know you didn’t care for him much,” The King brazenly said. “He’s honor wouldn’t let him send away your mother after the incident, and I don’t blame you for resenting him. Especially, since he left the craze women your regent, I’ll never understand his reasoning.” The King took a long sip of his wine, and Sansa wondered if it had an effect on him anymore after all the years of drinking copious amounts of wine and ale.

  
She stayed silent not knowing what to say. When she was seven years old, her mother in a fit had wrapped her hands around her neck and squeezed, until Sansa’s vision had turned black. Out of pure luck, her father had walked into the chambers they were in, and Sansa could only assume her father put an end to her mother’s attempt to strangle her. When she awoke, Sansa did not see her mother and awoke to her father. He told Sansa that her mother was ill and that he thought he best to send Sansa away. The next week they were on the road to Winterfell, and she had never returned King's Landing. Yet, her father had not realized, the strangling incident had been the climax of many years of abuse by her mother. Sansa doubted it was because her mother was mad, but, she could never bring herself to tell her father that fact.

  
“Mother was ill, and a husband is supposed to take care of his wife, even if she is not in the right state of mind,” Sansa finally found words. The words were pleasant, and not too defensive, her father could have easily sent her mother to the Vale and kept Sansa close. He hadn’t, and Sansa was both thankful and resentful of his actions.

  
The King nodded. “You’ll have to find a husband one day,” he began and Sansa could fell a lump in her throat form. Joffrey was close to her age, maybe a year older or less. She couldn’t quite remember their age differences, Jon Arryn had always kept her away from the royal children in her short time living in King's Landing.

  
“Don’t let your mother or any of the Lords of Vale marry you off, especially your cousin what is his name?” The King asked, impatiently waiting for the answer.

  
“Ser Harry Hardying, he is to inherit the Vale after me if I leave no issue,” Sansa answered. Harry was a distant cousin, he was her great-grandfathers only daughter’s daughter’s son. Nevertheless, he was the closest living member of the House of Arryn. The Arryn family had not had the best luck with children in the past generation. Her father’s sister and brother had left behind no surviving issues, and she was an only child, meaning the House of Arryn was struggling to survive.

  
“Don’t marry him,” The King stated. “Do your father one favor and find a man that will let you keep your name, or least let your heir have the name Arryn.”

  
Sansa nodded, she knew what people referred to her when they saw her walk by, the Last Arryn. The first great family to have died out was the Targaryens, but there was still two of them to her one. “I take your advice to heart My King,” Sansa replied. At least he had not offered one of his sons to her, but, it wouldn’t make sense. The Vale needed a paramount and not a Queen, and Tommen was too young for her.

  
“I guess we should get on with it, I need you to bend the knee Lady Sansa,” The King said.

  
“I pledge myself and my people’s loyalty to you, as Lady of the Vale of Arryn,” Sansa simply pledged, before standing again up.

  
The King nodded. “Enjoy the feast tonight, My Lady, I know it may be your last here at home,” he said.

  
Sansa smiled, and nodded before heading out of the Great Hall. The King was right, tonight would be the last feast in the place she called home.

* * *

 

 

Sansa stared at Jon as he went back to beating the dummy after Benjen left. She had overheard talking to his uncle about taking the black, and Sansa knew she couldn’t let him. Jon’s idea that the Wall was made of honorable men was a false one, her father had once taken her to see the Wall years ago when there were rumors of wights coming to life, and King Robert has sent him to investigate. At age eleven years old, she could tell that those men weren’t good men. One thing she was sure about in life was that Jon Snow, despite being natural born, was one of the best men in the world. The only times Jon misbehave as a child was when Robb talked him into doing something wrong, and now as a young man he always used his best manners and she was sure that he never used crude words within earshot of a woman. Jon Snow didn’t belong on the Wall, but Sansa knew his days at Winterfell were numbered as well. Jon was an honorable person, and she would never forgive herself if she did not try one more time for him to come to Vale with herself.

  
“Jon,” Sansa began as she came out from her hiding spot and approached him.

  
Jon stopped beating the dummy with his training sword and looked at her. “Hiding in the shadows, Lady Arryn, shouldn’t you be at the feast?”

  
She sighed. He was crossed. Jon only called her Lady Arryn when others were around or if he was crossed with her. “Don’t Lady Arryn me, Jon. Just because Benjen is rightly discouraging you from the Wall, doesn’t mean you should take your unhappiness on me.”

  
“Maybe you shouldn’t eavesdrop,” Jon replied dropping his sword and taking a step closer to her.

  
“Come to Vale with me,” Sansa asked again. The first time he had denied her, but perhaps, he would give her a different answer.

  
She was leaving for the Vale in two days. For the first time she was seven she would leave Winterfell to never return again. Not a single soul that she had grown to love could come with her, but, Jon could. Sansa wasn’t sure why she hadn’t thought of it before, Jon was becoming a man, and it was only a short time that he too leave Winterfell and not come back. So why couldn’t he come to Vale with her? Even if he didn’t love her, he could find glory in the Vale. She would be able to watch him grow old and father children and that was a better comfort then thinking of him dressed in black freezing at the Wall.

  
“Do you know the longest I’ve ever stayed in the Vale was two months? I don’t even know the Maester's name, much less who I can trust Jon,” Sansa began looking at him. “Winterfell is the only place I’ve ever been safe, my mother tried to kill me in King’s Landing and I caught a fever that killed my babe brother the last time I went to Vale four years ago,” she drawled out. “I need someone to come to Vale with me, that I know, I need a little piece of Winterfell with me, and you could come with me.”

  
“I am going to go to the Wall, Sansa. I can make a name for myself there,” Jon replied.

  
Sansa shook her head. “You can make a name for yourself at the Vale, Jon, you could squire for someone and I could Knight you myself.” She knew she wasn’t persuading him very well, but she was trying.

  
“Sansa, you can’t bring a bastard to the Vale with you. We’re two different people your-

  
“I am not asking because I am in love with you Jon,” Sansa interrupted. Jon’s expression changed slightly. “I am asking because you don’t belong at the Wall. You are meant for so much more, and so I am asking as Lady Sansa Arryn, Lady of the Vale and Warden of the East for you to come with me to my realm.”

Jon stared at her for a moment, and slowly he cracked a smile. “That’s the most Lord like I ever have heard you, San- I mean Lady Arryn,” he began. “I’ll go on one condition,” Jon finally relented.

  
“What is it?” Sansa asked a little eagerly.

  
Jon tucked his sword into his rightful place at his side. “A year at the Vale and then if I wish to go to the Wall, you’ll let me,” Jon bargained.

  
A year would be barely enough time to find him a decent knight for him to squire for. Perhaps, she would be able to speed up the process of his knighthood, after all, most squires were younger than Jon and worse swordsmen. It was better then him going to the Wall when she departed though, and so Sansa knew she had no choice but to take the deal.

  
“I accept your terms.”

  
Just like that, they seemed to change the course of history. Jon Snow would not be a brother of the Night’s Watch, instead, he would go the Vale. A man who was the persona of a Northerner would travel to the Vale, where people were vastly different. Yet, he would go at the side of the Lady of the Vale and songs would be spoken of this day when Sansa Arryn convinced Jon Snow to go East.

* * *

  
Since she had lived in Winterfell, Sansa had always shared a room with Arya Stark. The room was rather large, and it had always made sense that they share a room. The Septa and Lady Stark would often spend hours braiding the young girl's hair when they were younger and dresses were never put in the wrong room. They were different as night and day, but Arya was the closest thing she had to a sister. Usually, their nights would consist of them bickering about who would blow out the candle that illuminates their room from their respective beds, but tonight was different.

  
Arya was crying. Arya never cried. Sansa had paused as she after blowing out the candle, and instead of going to her bed she turned around and made her way to Arya’s bed and wasted no time climbing underneath the covers. Red-faced and visibly upset Arya turned and threw her arms around Sansa.

  
“I don’t want to marry him,” she wailed. Arya was engaged to Prince Joffrey. At twelve she was too young to understand the honor and it didn’t help Arya was a free spirit. “I want to stay in Winterfell, everyone is leaving and everything is changing, it’s not right,” she murmured.

  
Sansa choked back her own tears. “I don’t want to leave either,” She admitted.

  
“I thought you were excited to go on and be a real Lady,” Arya remarked as she leaned up against the headboard. “You’ve even got Jon agreeing to be your sworn shield.”

Sansa sighed. Her mother’s raven had claimed that Jon was welcomed at the Vale as long as his loyalty was clear. He was to be a sworn-shield, which was honorable, but Sansa knew Jon was so much then just a shield. “Arya,” Sansa began. “You know Jon was going to leave for the Wall if I didn’t convince him to come with me.”

  
Arya nodded. “I know, but that doesn’t mean your his favorite now, I still am. Even if you do talk him into marrying you.” Arya loved all her brothers, but Jon was always her favorite.

  
“I am not marrying Jon,” Sansa replied. “He wouldn’t have me.” The comment made Arya frown, and Sansa wondered what she truly had to say about the matter.

“Would you take Joffrey off my hands then?” Arya joked, chasing the subject and causing Sansa to let out a laugh. If it wasn’t for the fact that Joffrey was the Prince, Sansa knew that Arya’s engagement would not have come to be true. It did not take much to realize that Arya and Joffrey would not have a happy marriage. Luckily, Arya had few years of freedom before they would be forced together.

“No,” Sansa answered. “You are always welcomed in the Vale, even though you’ll have to sleep in your own room,” she commented.

They both moved to lay next to each other and looked p at the ceiling. “I don’t remember a time when we didn’t share a room,” Arya breathed out. “Do you?”

  
Arya was three when Sansa arrived at Winterfell, and Bran just a babe, and they slept in the nursery together. However, a night after her arrival Lady Catelyn and moved the girls in, claiming that a soon to be Arya no longer needed to be in the nursery. While most of her memories were of her and Arya sharing a room, Sansa remembered the small room she had in the capital and those memories were not happy ones. However, Arya was looking at her, begging her to say that she remembered a great time when they were apart.

“I had a pink room,” She paused suddenly realizing that Arya would most likely take her room. “I don’t think you would like it much,” Sansa answered truthfully. “We should get some sleep,” Sansa shifted as she went to move out of Arya’s bed.

“Wait, I don't want to be alone,” Arya mumbled.

Sansa sighed. “I’ll be in the bed across from you, we both know you kick in your sleep.”

“I do not!” Arya exclaimed, before looking down. Although she would not be getting any sleep, Sansa curled up underneath the covers. All her life she had earned for a sibling, because she knew this moment would come, the day she would have to leave not just Arya, but the other Starks as well.

It was only quiet between them for a few moments, before Arya spoke again. “You know you’ve always been a sister to me,” she paused. “But you go around telling people I cried tonight, I’ll take it back.”

Sansa smiled and simply closed her eyes. While Arya may prefer pants and playing mud, she was her sister. They raised together side by side for years and even though they had a different last name, they shared the same room and blood. Tonight would not be the last time they would see each other, for sisters never truly parted.

* * *

  
Jon was sure about the Knights of the Vale that were sent to escort Sansa to the mountains. They all wore fine armor as if they were preparing for battle for a simple escort and they all tried to hide their shivering due to the cold. He didn’t bare them any mind as he strapped supplies to his horse. If he had any strength he would tell Sansa he changed his mind and head to the Wall, instead, he seemed that he would be joining the ranks of the stupid Knights of the Vale, if Sansa had her way.

“You say goodbye to Bran?” Robb asked as he began to saddle his horse. Poor Bran had fallen off the tower, the same tower that he had scaled hundreds of time, and had not woken since. He hated the thought of leaving his younger brother when his life was on the line, but the Vale was awaiting Sansa.

“He’s not going to die, I know,” Robb added giving him a small smile.

“You Starks are hard to kill,” Jon replied. He didn’t know when the next time he would see his brother, Robb or Bran. It was odd, knowing he was leaving the safety of his childhood’s home.

Robb sighed, “My mother?”

It was no secret that Catelyn Stark detested him, and she would be the one thing he would not miss. “She was kind,” Jon gave him a half-hearted reply.

Robb nodded. “How is it you are the brother that gets to ride away with the pretty girl?” He jested.

“I am going there to be her personal guard,” Jon answered. Although Sansa was Lady of the Vale, her crazed mother was in charge and regent. The only way Lysa agreed on bringing Jon, the bastard, to the Vale was if he pledged to guard her daughter with his life. It’s not like he needed a vow telling him to protect Sansa, he would do it because she was someone special.

“The next time I see you, perhaps, you’ll be Lord of the Vale,” Robb paused, “Or at least kiss the poor lass,” he chuckled.

Jon took a step forward and hugged his brother. Robb had been by his side since they were mere infants. They had taken their first steps together and gotten their first swords together, had done everything together. “Farewell Stark.”

“Farewell Snow.”

* * *

 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Despite the protests of the knights, Sansa did not ride in the carriage they had brought for the journey. Instead, she rode on her pristine white horse, hair braided and heavy cloak draped over her shoulders her head held high as she and Jon conversed along the way. A group of men were in front of them and another group behind them, and a few on each side of them, and their beloved dire wolves trotting along next to them. Although Jon was her sworn shield, which was the only way her mother would let him travel to Vale, it was obvious the knights didn’t care much for him. They wore shining silver armor while Jon wore simple dark leathers and an even darker cloak around his shoulders. “You know you don’t have to prove anything to them, Sansa,” Jon stated, as they began to traverse a very muddy area on the road. They were slowly making their way through Vale territory, carefully as they were now entering into an area that often had troubles with the hill tribes. Many of the men had wanted her to stay in the wheelhouse, believing she may fall off her horse it lost its footing. She was never the best rider, however, she knew that she needed to show that she was not weak. The Knights of the Vale were hers and she wanted them to know she would ride alongside them and not in a gilded carriage.

“I am fine, Jon,” Sansa said as she tightened her grip on the reins. Her horse was keen to the snow, but when she was ten years old and out on a ride she had fallen off into the thick plush snow outside of Winterfell. Her dress had been soaked and her bottom badly bruised. Robb, who rode horses as if he was one with the beasts, had laughed gently and dismounted to help her up. Her horse had run off, despite Robb trying to catch it as Jon tended to her. The three of them had to walk all the way back to Winterfell as her horse had been lost, and poor Jon had to give up his cloak to her so she could have something dry on.

“I believe you said the same words once before and then you lost a horse,” Jon smirked, obviously remembering the same memory as she was. It was obvious they both were already missing Winterfell, missing home. They had grown up side by side in the same household, and while she wished for the Starks to be her siblings, he had wished for his name to be Stark.

“I am not that bad at riding a horse. I have had the same teachers that you had Jon,” she turned her head slightly and she could see the glint in his eyes.

“Aye,” he paused. “But you took longer then any of the other children to simply ride a pony if I remember correctly. Bran can-." Jon stopped mid-sentence. Bran was an excellent rider, however, he would never be able to ride again. Like Robb, Bran took to riding, and Lord Stark had let him sit upon a pony at the young age of two. His life was supposed to be filled with races and whisking away ladies in distress, but one fall had changed the course of events his life would take.

“I wished we could have waited longer before leaving. I didn’t like leaving Bran,” Sansa admitted slowly. Bran was like her little brother, not even like, he was her brother. She remembered when he came into the world, as he had been born just a few days after she had arrived in Winterfell.

“You’re not going to miss Theon?” Jon jested, obviously wanting to change the subject. Sansa laughed a little, welcoming the change of subject. As much as she would love to get him to show her his vulnerability, she knew he would not his guard down in the earshot of other men. “I was hoping I would get to experience Winterfell without him in it, and prayed he would go back to Pyke before the Vale called me back.”

“Winterfell was quieter before Theon,” Jon relented. “Poor, Robb is stuck with the loudmouth still though,” he muttered.

Just as his words left his mouth, Sansa heard the sound of arrows cutting through the air. Her horse reared up, and she braced herself leaning forward to steady herself so she wouldn’t fall off. As soon as her horse’s feet were on the ground, she felt a strong arm pulling her off. “Jon!” Sansa exclaimed as she felt him hug her close to his chest, now both of them on the ground. The horses being left to their own devices.

“Stay close to me,” Jon demanded as he unsheathed his sword. Sansa didn’t argue as she saw the disgruntled and wild men that were hill tribe men. The knights were fighting them off, but she could tell many of them were overwhelmed. Her eyes widen as a very large man with an ax, came barreling at her and Jon. Ever so quickly Jon pushed her behind him, and blocked the ax with the flat edge of his sword, tipping the attacker off balance, before he thrust the sword into the tribe member’s side leaving the attacker bleeding out from his chest. Sansa’s hand went to her mouth to hold back her scream, but Jon grabbed it and pulled her out the way of an arrow flying towards her.

“Stick them with the pointy end,” he instructed her as he shoved the handle of a thin dagger to her. Never once in her life had she been handed a weapon, but as she saw two men approaching on different sides of them, she felt that she may have to learn quickly how to use one. However, Jon surprised her. She always knew he was the best swordsmen at Winterfell, but it was almost as if he was dancing a dance he had performed a hundred times. He disarmed the man closet to them first, before spinning around and slicing the arm of the other. The man he had disarmed attempted to wrap his arms around Jon, but Jon was one step ahead of him and sent his elbow flying back into the man’s nose before completely turning around and slicing through the man’s chest. The second man was now running towards them, and Jon engaged in a series of a few swings before ending him as well.

“Are you alright?” Jon breathed heavily, the scrimmage had ended as the other men had also managed to either end their opponents or run the tribe men off. Sansa dropped the dagger she was holding and ran forward and wrapped her arms around him. She knew he was fine, but during all the years of seeing him train with blunt swords, Sansa had never once seen him fight for real.

“I should be the one asking you that,” She pulled away sensing the stares of the other Vale men. “You’re riding in the carriage the rest of the way, it’s safer,” Jon said as he went to pick up the dagger. He placed it back in his belt along, before sheathing his sword back into his holder. “No arguments, My Lady,” He muttered, as Harry Hardyng, the heir to the Vale, and the head of the escort approached them. Lady and Ghost had joined them, both of their snouts dirty with blood from whatever men most likely attacked, and Sansa was relieved that her beloved wolf was safe. Harry was handsome, by Southern means. With blonde hair and dimples, and dressed in the blue of the sky, he was her only cousin through her father. Sansa had never met him before, and she didn’t care much for him. He knew he was charming and pretty, and she didn’t find that attractive in a man.

“Are you well, My Lady?” Harry asked as two Vale men flanked him. They were all little bruised, and yet Jon had not a scratch on him. “I am fine Ser Harry,” Sansa answered with a slight nod of the head. “Do the men need to take time to recover or do you think it is safe to move on?” She questioned. Harry glanced at the men, obviously needing advice. Sansa sighed and look at Jon, who was just as irritated at her.

“Giving the men some time to rest and round up the horses, while a rider is sent ahead to survey for any more tribesmen would be wise,” Jon offered.

“Why I was just about to say the same thing _Snow_ ,” Harry sneered the last comment.

“Send a man whose fast on a horse out ahead, and let's tend to the ones that are injured,” Harry paused and look at her as if he was undressing her. “I am going to see to the men, I hope you are in capable hands.”

“Last I checked Jon was the only one rushing to my side when the men attack, Ser Harry,” she stated before turning her back to him and walking away. She could hear Jon grumbling as they made the way to the wheelhouse, she opened the door and sat on the floor of the house her legs dangling on the outside.

“You can’t go fighting battles for me Sansa,” Jon stated after he grabbed some water and bread out of one the baskets at the back of the wheelhouse. “Let me sit next to you,” he added and Sansa moved over a bit so he could sit next to her.

“It just doesn’t make any sense that Harry, who probably would not shed a tear if I died, gets the title Ser and you don’t get anything,” Sansa said as Jon took a long drag off water out of the flask.

“If I had gone to the Wall, titles or bastardy wouldn’t have mattered,” Jon stated.

“If you had gone to the Wall, I’d probably be dead.”

There was a moment of silence and Jon was simply staring at her. It was as if his actions were sinking in. He had been the one that had dragged her off her horse and had knocked down any man that came near her. No Vale man had even tried to come near her to help but had left her and Jon to themselves. If he hadn’t been there, Sansa doubted she would have been alive The men would have left in her in the wheelhouse, and tribesmen would have probably carried off to the woods to kill her before anyone noticed. Although she was grateful for her life, and that Jon had protected her, she was starting to realize the flaw in asking him to come to the Vale with her, she was falling for him harder and harder.

* * *

 

“Oh my dear sweet daughter,” Lyssa Arryn walked up and embraced Sansa. Her mother was a less beautiful version of Lady Catelyn, her face longer and her hair a duller shade of red. Still, Lady Lysa had the Tully's signature blue eyes, but they were a bit of crazy behind them, and Jon didn’t like the face Sansa made when her mother hugged her.

“Mother,” Sansa breathy replied and Jon could tell she wanted to be anywhere but the Great Hall of the Eyerie. They were fresh off the road, and Sansa had not had a proper bed in the last two days or a bath. Although Sansa did her best on the road, Jon had known the whole time she wanted nothing but a decent bed and bath most nights when they were left to make camp.

“This must be my good brother’s bastard,” Lysa said after she pulled away from Sansa. The other lords and ladies standing around them seemed to draw their attention to him, and Sansa ad the most apologetic look on her face.

“His name is Jon Snow, Mother,” Sansa corrected. “He’s much more than a bastard, he was the only one that protected me when we were attacked on the road by a hill tribe,” she added quickly, causing the men who had escorted her to nervously shift behind him.

“Ser Harry,” Lady Lysa called out and the man who was the current heir to the Vale stepped forward. “Are you loyal to my daughter?”

“I would give my life for your daughter,” the knight’s words were fake and Jon shared a look with Sansa. Never once had he felt like such an outsider, but it was obvious they were. Around them, men wore light color tunics and the ladies wore more southern styled dresses. He was the spitting image of Northerner in his leathers, and Sansa looked more like a Lady of Winterfell than of the Vale in her thick cloak and high neck dress. Ser Harry and his falsities belonged in the Eyerie, not them. “

Then why did you leave a bastard to defend my daughter?”

“Mother!” Sansa exclaimed. “Do not call Jon a bastard, he is more of knight then Ser Harry,” she heard the gasps and he noticed that Harry’s face fell.

The men had not been shy in telling him that Harry wished to marry Sansa, and the union did make sense. However, Jon knew that Harry had lost any chance with Sansa the moment he hadn’t come running to her side in the thick of a battle. Sansa loved the knights that whisk the lady in distress away, and he hadn’t.

“You think he’s worthy of such a title?” Lysa asked looking at her daughter.

“Yes, I think he proved himself worthy of being knighted, after all, he was not under a vow to protect me,” Sansa said. It was true he had come to be her sworn shield, but Lysa had demanded that he swear the vow in the Vale and so his actions on the road were not done out of obligation.

“What do you think about this Ser Harry,”Lysa spoke.

“My Lady, he had not even squired,” Ser Harry plainly stated. "He cannot become a knight." Although Jon did not care for Ser Harry, the knight was correct. It was unsual for one to become a knight without squiring. 

“Jon has trained in Winterfell under men of equal status if not greater then some Knights here,” Sansa defended. “He’s the best swordsmen in the North.” Jon didn’t like being the center of attention and he could tell that all the yes were still on him.

“I suppose we shall see about this at a later time, Darling,” Lysa remarked, before turning her attention to Sansa. “I think its best you meet your Lords and then turn in for bed.”

“Mother it’s not even dusk yet,” Sansa stated.

“The road is tiring and you are so frail,” Lysa clipped. Sansa stiffened and never had he been so glad that he had come to the Eyerie with her. Something about Lady Lysa was not right, and it seemed off that Sansa did run into her mother’s arms after not seeing her for years. If it was Lady Catelyn, Sansa would not have hesitated to throw her arms around her. He watched carefully as Sansa sweetly greeted each Lord, only for Lady Lysa to snipped unnecessary comments at Sansa when she stumbled just the slightest bit. Soon enough, Lady Lysa was snapping orders again, and Jon found himself in the small room down the hall from the entrance to Lord’s Chambers, as even though the sun had not yet set, Lady Lysa had declared everyone in the traveling company should retire.

His room was slightly bigger than his childhood room in Winterfell. The room consisted a large window that overlooked the mountains and a nice size bed positioned across from his fireplace, and small lounge chair that Ghost seemed to claim as his bed. The small trunk that he had brought with him from Winterfell laid next to the bed waiting to be unpacked, but just as Jon began to move to do so, Ghost shot up out of the chair and started barking at the door.

“What is it, boy?” Jon asked as he went to the door and opened it, only for Ghost to break out into a run as he heard the sounds of growling and Lady Lyssa’s demanding voice. Jon walked briskly to see Sansa standing next to Lady who was bleeding on her side, her mother and a guard next to her with a dagger that was coated with blood. Ghost moved to stand next to his littermate, his teeth snarling at the guard.

“What is going on?” Jon demanded and he could tell that Sansa was visibly upset. Lady Lysa glared at him, “Why on earth did your father not only allow these beasts to live but to travel to the Vale?” The dire wolves hadn't been inside when Sansa had made her presence to know to her mother and the Lords. So Jon was unsure when Lady Lysa had the opportunity to become so upset about them.

“Lord Stark gifted Lady to Sansa-

“Lady Arryn,” The guard next to Lady Lysa corrected him.

“Apologies,” Jon remarked, as he glanced at Sansa who now sit next to Lady, gently caressing her fur. “Lady Aryn was gifted the dire wolf, and both Lady and my own wolf are loyal and well trained, and I am surprised Ser, that the wolf did not take off your hand for drawing a dagger in Lady Arryn’s presence.” Lady Lysa straightened her back and took a step closer to him.

“If the wolf is so loyal why does my daughter need you as a sworn shield then?” Jon was about to answer, but Sansa spoke for him.

“I am a woman mother, Jon cannot be with me at all times. However, Lady can be,” she argued. Jon looked into her eyes and could see that her eyes were misty and she was holding back tears.

“Lord Stark would not be happy to hear that the sigil of his house was harmed My Lady,” Jon began and he could tell that Lysa was somewhat listening to him. “The wolves may be in the East now, but they are creatures of the North, you hurt them and the Northerners shall not be happy with you.” A part of him was beginning to think that his stay in the Vale was about to be cut short, as he had just indirectly threatened the regent of the Vale.

“If the wolves cause any harm to any person that is not deserving of it, you will pay the price then Northerner,” Lady Lysa sneered before storming away from them with guard hot on her tail. Jon knelt down next to Sansa and Lady, and Ghost began circling around them clearly worried about his littermate.

“Let me take a look,” Jon murmured to Lady as he gently stroked her fur. The wound wasn’t deep, but it was clear that dagger had missed its mark. “She’s going to need it cleaned and some stitches,” he said as he looked up to Sansa.

“Lady didn’t do anything Jon,” Sansa stated as she wiped away her tears that she had allowed to fall from her eyes after her mother left. “They barged into my room and Lady just growled is all, and the next thing I know Ser Lyndon is pulling a dagger on Lady, I had to jump in between them,” she hurriedly explained.

Jon wasn’t sure what made him angrier, the fact that two people had barged into Sansa’s room unannounced as if she was some common lass, or the fact a man had a dagger out in the presence of Sansa. “It won’t happen again Sansa,” Jon promised as he carefully scooped the dire wolf into his arms and stood up. Sansa scrambled to her feet and led Jon through her solar and into her room. Luckily, there were large plush furs next to the fireplace and Jon settle the wold down next to them. “Should I go get the meastar?” He asked.

Sansa shook her head as she went to the small washable next to her changing table. She grabbed some wash clothes and the pitcher of water, before walking over and settling herself next to the wolf.

“I don’t think Lady would like a strange person tending to her wounds,” Sansa said as she took a washcloth and dipped into the pitcher. Lady flinched as Sansa washed the wound slowly. Ghost had settled next to Lady and licked her face ever so gently.

“I should have been there when it happened,” Jon stated. Sansa looked up from her work and shook her head.

“It’s not your fault, Jon. My mother is not kind and the power she has gained recently as only increased her ill state of mind.” No one had ever uttered exactly why Sansa had been sent away from the capital. Rumor had it was that she had been a terrible child, but Jon knew that to be so far from the truth it was hilarious. From a young age, Sansa had always been the perfect little lady. Once, Robb had claimed that his Aunt was mad. Moon tea, he had whispered as it was some dirty word. His brother had claimed that Lysa had consumed too much of it as she had several trysts before marrying Jon Arryn, and had become subject to the craziness it could cause. Jon had thought Robb was kidding, but it appeared that the words he had spoken once were in fact true. “Has she always been this way?” Sansa paused her moments and nodded to answer his question.

“Is that why you were sent away because your mother was- no is insane?” Sansa put the washcloth in the pitcher and slowly stood.

“My mother never wrote to me while I was in Winterfell,” Sansa simply responded as she went to rummage around a dresser, only to pull out some thread and a needle. Her skirts flowed slightly as she then went to the small table with two chairs surrounding it, and dipped the needle in the decanter of wine on the table to sterilize the needle. “I only saw her once when I was nine when I was sent to meet my baby brother,” she added as she came back to Lady. “I had the fever that took my brother, and she didn’t even come visit me on my sick bed.”

Vaguely, he remembered the few months when Sansa had left Winterfell. When she had left she had been so eager to meet her baby brother, and the rest of them had been wary that they may be replaced by her true sibling. However, when she returned with a sad face and still pale from the illness that she had suffered from, they had realized the worries had been pointless. Lord Robin Arryn had not lived to see his third moon, dying of a fever that Sansa had received from him.

“You hold no love for her,” Jon simply said as she drew thick black thread through the needle.

“How you feel about Lady Stark is how I feel about my own mother,” Sansa stated as she tied off the thread. “Will you hold Lady down?” She asked. Jon didn’t respond but took the leather belt that held his jerkin tight around his waist off. Sansa sighed as he fastened it around Lady’s snout, as a precaution. Although Lady was gentle, they could not give her milk of poppy like a human to keep her from trashing at them. Using his body weight, Jon placed one forearm against her neck and his other against her backside.

“I am ready,” Jon said. Sansa stroked Lady’s fur gently. “I am sorry Lady, but this will help you,” She mumbled as she pierced Lady’s skin with her needle. Time was agonizingly slow as Sansa’s needle threaded through Lady’s skin. Lady whimpered and slightly struggled against him, and Ghost’s tail was in between his legs as he watched his sister be tended too. After some time, Sansa tied off the stitches and Jon released his hold of Lady and took the belt off her mouth. Wasting no time, Lady curled herself into a tight ball and rested her head on Sansa’s lap. The image of Sansa still disturbed from her dire wolf being attacked by her own knight, caused something in him to snap. This was the girl that had been raised side by side him, and been doted on by Lord and Lady Stark, and was raised to be a leader. Jon never had a mother, but he knew what a mother was supposed to act like, and Lady Lysa was not a true mother. Even if he had to endure worse treatment then he did by Lady Catelyn he would endure it, because what was right was for Sansa to rule the Vale. His father had raised him to be true and honorable, and those ideals were not left behind in the North, it didn’t matter the price, he would live to see that day that Sansa was the true Lady of the Vale.

* * *

 

Sansa sat next to her mother and not in her rightful seat. Lady Lysa had claimed that Sansa would only be able to sit on the former Mountain King throne when she was Lady of the Vale in her own right. The reasoning was lacking, as her mother was only the regent and held no power of her own. Although it was unusual, from what she heard, the Lords of the Vale had been allowed to gather at the Gates of the Moon. Currently, Sansa was listening to her mother flirt shamelessly with an older lord, Lord Alaric Dern, of a small holdfast on the edge of the Vale and the Riverlands, or maybe he was Riverland lord as many of them sought the favor of her mother.

“As beautiful as you are My Lady, I have to say your daughter is of equal beauty,” Lord Dern stated. Lysa frowned, and Sansa did her best not to cringe. Lord Dern was a heavier man with gray hair tied tight at the base of his neck and wore a tunic that was a flamboyant purple. Worse of all, he was old enough to be her father.

“My daughter is lucky enough to share some of my qualities, however, I fear she has not yet developed any womanly assets,” Lysa smirked as she leaned forward.

Her mother was wearing a low style dress that showed off her cleavage, and in Sansa’s opinion showed off a little too much cleavage. Sansa herself preferred more modest dresses. Perhaps it was from her childhood in the North were warmth was more important than appealing to a man’s eye. The one she currently wearing was rather plain, a simple pale pink dress that had sleeves down to the elbow and a square neckline that was much higher than her mother’s. While it was plain, she had sewn it from scratch herself. For hours she had labored on it, cutting out the fabric just right with Lady Catelyn smiling at her side. She missed Lady Catelyn, she had spent years wishing that the oldest Tully daughter was her mother, and now more than ever did she wish that be true.

“Yes, My Lady,” Lord Dern painfully grimaced. “You daughter is still young,” He paused awkwardly. “I thank you for your time,” he finished pitifully and bowed before walking away from them.

Lord Dern was thankfully the last person to seek an audience with her mother today, and Sansa was glad when her mother stood and called an end for meeting with people. Although she still had to attend lessons with her Septa, Sansa knew she had some time before them, so she decided to venture down to the training yard where she knew Jon would be. The Eyerie didn’t have as many outside spaces like Winterfell due to its mountains location. However, it still had a training yard that was surrounded on three sides by a balcony for people to watch from above. The fourth side stood a small railing that kept men from falling off the side of the cliff that it backed up to. Leaning against the railing from above on the balcony, her blue eyes peered down as she saw Jon emerge for the equipment area underneath the balcony to enter the training yard. He donned the familiar lightweight armor for training like he had in Winterfell and a blunted sword in his hand, on the other side of the courtyard Ser Harry held just knocked down a small squire with his own blunted sword.

“Look there he is, the Bastard of Winterfell,” Harry commented turning around to face Jon. Clenching her own fist, Sansa wondered how Jon held back his own anger, if she could she would strike down Harry with her own sword. However, she wasn’t trained like Jon, nor did she care to use one, that was always more of Arya’s interest. “Ser Hardying,” Jon calmly replied. The knight cocked his head, and Sansa had a bad feeling about what was going to happen.

“You know not many of the knights are happy that Lady Arryn brought you along from Winterfell,” Harry stated, looking at the blunted sword that was in his hand. “How is it that a bastard gets to be the sworn shield of our fair Lady?” He questioned as he tossed the sword to some other knight. “I am a good swordsman,” Jon answered, plainly. Sansa moved away from the railing, thankful for the shadows that were hiding her. At least she was able to see Harry’s true colors. It was clear he was up to no good.

“A good swordsman?” Harry smirked. “I have a wager, if I beat you in live steel combat you go back to Winterfell and let Lady Aryn be guarded by real knights.” A part of her wanted to announce her presence from the shadows. Harry had no right demanding or even suggesting Jon leave, just because he was next in one for her seat did not mean he held any power over her life.

“What would I get out of that wager?” Jon questioned, clearly not pleased with Harry’s suggestion. The other knights looked at Harry, and Sansa prepared herself for the worse. “If you win, you can be a Ser, a knight. You still be a bastard but you’ll have some respect,” Harry answered. “I swear on the seven if you don’t believe me, Bastard,” he added.

“The one who yields losses,” Jon stated as he threw down the blunted sword, and a young boy ran out of the equipment area with a real sword for him. Jon titled it back and forth as he waited for Harry to ready himself.

All her years of watching Jon trained in Winterfell, she had never been nervous. Very rarely, was Jon bested when it came to a sword. In fact, she could only remember one time where Robb had beaten him in the past three years and Theon had never bested him in sword or wrestling in her time at Winterfell. It was like an extension of his hand, he and the weapon were one. However, Jon had fought few men outside of Winterfell and to extension Wintertown. Where he knew where every little rough spot was in the Winterfell training yard, this was unfamiliar territory. As the sound of metal hitting metal, she closed her eyes, she would not watch this battle. The sound of grunting, of metal hitting not just metal, but flesh and bone hit ran through her ears. She could hear the sound of men cheering and the unearthly silence of the crowd. Although she hadn’t been able to keep her eyes closed, she had her back to the training yard. Her hands were gripping the railing so hard she feared that the wood might be splintered underneath her hands. If Jon didn’t win, Sansa did not know what she would do. They had only been here a few days, but Sansa did not know what she would without him. Lady had already been attacked and her mother was flirting with men as if she was a tavern wench, and she needed Jon. If he did not win, she would go back to Winterfell. To be damned if she Lady of the Vale or not, if she did not have one person she trusted and knew cared for her in some capacity, she would leave this place until they kicked out her mother or she had the power to do so.

“I yield,” A loud shout came from below. The voice wasn’t Jon’s she thought as she spun around. Harry was laid out on the ground, Jon’s sword at his throat and his foot holding down his sword hand. The blonde hair man had dirt on his face and his nose was bleeding from being hit. Jon had his back to her so she couldn’t see if he was injured, and so her legs began moving without her thinking. Down the stairs, they went and soon enough her skirts were being dirty by the mud of the training yard.

“What were you thinking?” Sansa questioned as Jon turned to face her, all the knights had bowed their heads, but Jon did not. No matter how many times Jon tried to be proper and formal with her, they both know he would never fully be able to. There would always be a familiarness to them that would never allow them to act like a Lady and a- well, she assumed he was a knight now.

“You claimed that I was the best swordsmen in the North,” Jon paused. “I thought I add the East to that title as well,” he added. Sansas smiled and shook her head slightly before she heard the sound of her mother’s voice. “

Ser Harry were you bested by this bastard?” Her mother questioned from the balcony above. Sansa looked up at her mother and stood straight. Her mother would not hold power over her, she would not go silently against her. The Vale was hers,

“Ser Harry was bested by Jon, Mother. I will knight him.Not only did he save me, he has now bested a Knight of the Vale.” There was no hesitation in her voice, no room for argument. In this moment, she was becoming Lady of the Vale.

“Fine, you may knight him,” Lysa paused and turned her nose up. “However, if I find you in the training yard again there will be consequences, you look like a dirty pig with muck on your dress,” she added before leaving the balcony.

“A sword please,” Sansa speaks to no one in particular in the training yard. A young, eager squire offers up his own small sword. It isn’t the finest, but it isn’t blunted and it had a proper handle that wasn’t wooden. “Kneel, Jon Snow,” Sansa said as she held the sword in her hand. It felt hold, but there was a strange feeling to the weight of it. Her back straightened as she saw Jon take a knee in front of her, he was unharmed from the fight with Harry. His curls slightly more mussed than usual, perhaps wet from sweat. Slowly, and she raised the sword and tapped each of Jon’s shoulder.

“In the light of the Old Gods and New, I declared thee Ser John Snow, you may rise,” She said as she placed the sword by her side again. No words were spoken, but Sansa caught his gray eyes and suddenly she felt her heart straining against her chest. She was proud of Jon. Not so long ago she had promised that he would be a knight, and here he was, earning the title without her having to do anything. This would not be a moment that songs would be sung about, but she would always remember it. As this was the moment she realized, Jon Snow would be a man of legend one day, she was sure of it.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter! I am so glad so many enjoyed it, and I can't tell you how much your support means!
> 
> Currently, I am not sure how long this story will go. However, it will led to the War and the drama that ensues :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clear up some confusion, in this story, Jon Arryn wrote a will that left Lysa as regent until Sansa turned twenty. Therefore, Sansa is still not in complete control of the Vale.

Chapter Three

Sansa was sitting next to her mother and ladies having an afternoon tea. However, they would not be gathering in the evening to celebrate her nameday. Lady Lysa had demanded no fuss or even celebration of her name day. Even at Winterfell where she was not the heir, there had always been a small feast. It was just another reason, at six and ten, Sansa was counting down the name days until her mother was no longer regent. However, she feared that day would never come. No matter the sometimes insane actions her mother took, the Lord of the Vale did not seek to rise against her or replace her. Perhaps it was their honor that stopped her from doing so or the simple fact that they did not care for Sansa herself either. Sansa had heard that many of them were not happy when she was sent to foster at Winterfell when she was a child, and many viewed her as an outsider, but in her mind, she could not see how one could be loyal to her mother. Yet, no lord or even maid had even begun to speak up against Lysa when she said there would be no feast or small celebration for Sansa’s nameday.

“Ser Harry,” Lady Lysa smiled at the knight who had approached them. Her mother had just been yammering on how Set Harry was a fine man, and that she should spend more time with him. Although her mother held no true interest in betrothing her anytime soon, it seemed that she did have an interest in keeping Her Harry interested in Sansa. “How wonderful it is to see you,” She added, and with the smile on Her Harry’s face, Sansa had no doubt the two had something planned.

  
“I was just visiting with Lord Royce down below at the Gates of the Moon, and he told me that it was younger Lady Arryn’s birthday, I knew I had to come and set my eyes on her,” Set Harry said the words, but all Sansa heard were perfectly recited lines.

  
“Oh, how kind of you, Sansa,” her mother turned and looked at her. “Why don’t you take a turn around the gardens with Her Harry?” It was more of a statement then a questioned and Sansa sighed. All the ladies were flushing madly at the sight of Lord Harry in a find gold tunic and light colored pants, but Sansa wished for the man in front of her to have dark hair and eyes.

  
“I was going to go on a ride soon,” Sansa lowly said as she stood from her chair. Although Jon was still in the training yard, she knew that he would come to get her soon. Although she didn’t care for riding, today, seemed like the perfect excuse to get out of Eyerie and just be free. Jon had agreed he would escort her day the mountain and into the valley for a decent ride.

  
“I fear it might rain later, best you enjoy the sunshine with Harry before it storms,” Lysa stated, her eyes darkening at Sansa’s defiance.

  
Harry simply held his hand and out, and as much as she wanted to reject, Sansa stood and slowly took it. Lady, who had been nuzzled at her feet, stood next to her as she took Harry’s hand. The knight smirked and began to lead her to the nearby gardens.

  
“I hear you are six and ten, My Lady, and I have to say you are becoming a beautiful young woman,” Harry said as she turned her attention to the small maze of rose bushes they were walking through. The Vale grew simple pink roses, not the beautiful winter roses of Winterfell that were an extraordinary shade of blue.

  
“That is kind of you say,” Sansa curtly replied.

  
“I am sorry to hear your mother did not let a feast go on, your mother, pardon me, My Lady, is quite an eccentric character,” Harry said as he led her through the maze at a leisurely pace.

  
Sansa stilled for a few seconds as her mind comprehend the words Harry was saying. “My mother is your Lady,” She stated. Although Sansa agreed her mother was eccentric, it did not mean a simple knight could diminish the seat of Arryn.

  
“No, my liege Lady stands before me,” Harry stated, dropping his arm from hers and taking one of her hands. “My Lady want would you be willing to do, to escape your mother?”

  
Sansa snatched her hand away from him and took a few steps to be in front of him. “I have no need to escape my mother,” Sansa claimed, her back facing Harry.

  
“I am a landed knight,” Harry began as he placed his hand on her low back. Sansa stiffened at the touch, and she saw Lady stop in her movements and glare at Harry. “It would not be odd, if I were to send, perhaps, my good mother to live in my keep.”

  
Sansa understood what he was implying. If she married him, he could perhaps get rid of her mother. However, she knew she was not willing to give up her hope of marrying for love to simply send off her mother. “Well, last I check you had no good mother to live in your keep, Ser Harry,” Sansa stated.

  
“I do not,” he answered as he reached into the pocket of his pant to pull out a small velvet pouch. Slowly, he pulled a glistening gold chain with a rather large diamond in the center of it. “I would be a good husband My Lady, but, today, I ask you to simply take this necklace as a small name day gift,” He said as held out the necklace to her.

  
Reluctantly Sansa took the necklace into her own hand. She was not one to be bought by gifts. “Thank you, Ser Harry.”

  
Harry smiled, “I also had the maids bring in some yellow roses into your room, I heard roses are your favorite.”

  
Sansa frowned and looked at the sky above her. Dark blooming clouds were forming, and perhaps her mother was right, it would rain. “Winter roses are my favorite,” she corrected, before looking at Harry. Hopefully, her future would not include him. Or else, she feared her mood would always resemble the sky currently, dark and gray and angry.

* * *

 

Ghost was running out of the Eyrie faster then Jon could keep up. The rain was threatening to fall, and although he feared he would not be able to take Sansa riding, it seemed he would now be chasing a direwolf through the rain. Carefully, Jon followed the wolf across the narrow stone bridge that led to the road that ended Gates of the Moon. Once carefully across the bridge, Ghost scampered up the side of the mountainous terrain and began to bark. Jon stared up at Ghost, he was perched on a small flat area about six feet above him. The rocks seemed to have formed a slight angle ramp in which he could use to scale the ridge. Hanging on the rocks above him he climbed up to the clearing that Ghost sat perched upon.

  
“Winter roses,” Jon whispered out as he saw the small bushes that Ghost had found. He smiled as he patted Ghost on the head. “Good boy.”

  
Although he was not happy that Ghost ran off, it was Sansa’s birthday. Winter roses had always been her favorite rose, and they did not grow in the Eyrie or the Vale in general. However, his loyal wolf had found perhaps the only patch of winter roses in the Vale. Carefully he pulled out his dagger and cut off a few roses. In fear that the roses wouldn’t regrow, Jon left with only a handful. It would be nice to have his own secret little bush of winter roses so that he could have them for Sansa. Ever since they were old enough Rickon and Bran had always plucked wild blue roses for Sansa on her name day, and before they were old enough to do so, it had been himself and Robb who performed the task. Lady Catelyn had always told her sons that a lady deserved her favorite flowers on her name day, and even if that advice had never been directed to him, Jon had still taken it to heart.

  
Together, Jon and Ghost ventured down the cliff and headed back to the Eyrie. A light sprinkle had begun to fall from the sky, and Jon pushed his feet to go faster in order to make it back to the keep before the rain poured and ruined the flowers in his hand. Luckily, the rain just began to pour as he made it safely inside. Ghost trotted next to him as he made his way through the keep to the corridor of Sansa’s chambers.

  
“Oh Ser Jon,” Ser Harry smirked as they came face to face at beginning the hallway that led to Sansa’s chambers. “I just escorted Lady Arryn back from the gardens,” he said glancing down at the flowers in Jon’s hand. “Oh, I hate to be the one to inform you but I have already given Lady Arryn some flowers for her

“Oh, I hate to be the one to inform you but I have already given Lady Arryn some flowers for her nameday,” he added.

  
Of course, Jon thought in his mind as Harry walked away. There was a strange feeling in his chest, one that he had never felt before. It was clear what Harry’s attention towards Sansa meant, the knight wanted to marry his charge. As a sworn shield he was not supposed to feel threatened by his lady’s suitors, but Jon was starting to wonder if Harry could truly send him away. It was obvious the knight didn’t like him, and it was made clear the moment the wager that had earned Jon his knighthood was made. Harry wanted him gone. While Sansa had truly never hidden her affections, yet, Jon had never expected him to feel jealous that her affections may change to another.

  
Looking down at the flowers, Jon silently wondered if they were still Sansa’s favorite. A part of him was wondering if Sansa even still wanted to see him, as she seemed to not have missed him as she had spent time with Harry walking around the gardens. The other part of him called himself a fool, for doubting if Sansa still cared for him. Silently, he knocked on the door to Sansa’s chambers and seconds later greeted by her smiling facing opening the door.

  
“Winter roses,” Sansa gasped as she took them from his hands and walked into her solar. “How on earth did you find any?” She asked Jon closed the door behind them. Sansa’s solar was warm and bright. A huge fireplace was burning brightly, and the light silver rugs brightening the room.

  
“Ghost found them,” Jon answered.

  
Sansa smiled as she went to the white painted desk in the corner and plucked the yellow roses out of the vase and replaced them with the blue ones. Rather carelessly, Sansa just left the yellow roses on the desk to dry out. “Are these meant for my name day or for you leaving me to fend off not only my mother but Ser Harry as well?”

  
Suddenly, he felt the unfamiliar feeling of a smile growing on his own face. “I fear both now,” Jon answered, as Sansa went to set on the small violet settee that sat in front of the heart. “Sit, Jon, it’s the least you can do after making me listen to Harry in the gardens.”

“Sit, Jon, it’s the least you can do after making me listen to Harry in the gardens.” Jon did what he was told and sat next to Sansa.

“I blame Ghost, he ran off and I followed.” At the sound of her littermate’s name, Lady pushed opened the door to Sansa’s bedchamber and came in wagging her tail.

“Sorry, Lady, Ghost is in the kennel eating his dinner.” Lady's ears dropped and she went to lay down in front of the fireplace.

“And Ghost is the one that found my favorite flowers?”

“Aye, but I gathered them.”

Jon took the moment of silence to look back at the flowers that he had brought Sansa. They would wilt in a few days most likely, but the poor yellow roses that Ser Harry had brought her would only last a few hours without water. “You should probably put the roses Ser Harry brought you back in the vase, he would not be happy to see them die so quickly.”

Sansa stiffened and looked down. “So you think I should pursue his affections?” The question hung in the air.

The man in question was not one that Jon would want Sansa to marry. Jon did not wish for Sansa to marry anyone, the thought of her being with someone else did not sit right with him. However, Harry Hardyning had a claim to the Vale, and he was powerful. If Sansa was not careful, Harry could very well try to take her home. “I think as Lady of the Vale it would be wise to keep him close,” Jon answered.

  
Suddenly, Jon felt her rest her small dainty hand on his. Just the smallest touch seemed to have his body burning, and her eyes were pleading with him. “What if I was just Sansa? Would you tell me to keep him close, and let him think that I may marry him one day?”

  
Without thinking he tightened his hold on Sansa’s hand. “You were never meant to be a simple girl, Sansa,” Jon said. The young woman in front of him would have never been a peasant. Even if she was born one, she was a beauty and would have caught the eye of some Lord who would not have been able to resist her and would have wedded her. Sansa pulled her hand back, and he could tell his response was not one she wanted. Jon knew exactly want Sansa wanted him to say, she wanted him to pronounce his love for her and run off and marry her. However, Jon was realistic. No matter how much Sansa cared for him, and perhaps no matter how much he cared for her, they would never be able to have a future together. These moments would be all they had, and Jon was accepting of these moments. He would cherish them, hold them close in his heart until the day Sansa would marry and he would likely be cast out by her husband.

  
“You know there is only one person I care for,” Sansa said as she looked away from him.

  
Jon wanted nothing more in that moment to tell her he knew, he knew that she cared for him. Yet, he would never able to act on his feelings. Sansa stilled believed tales in songs could come to be true, but, Jon knew that he would never be to tarnish her future. A bastard as the husband of the Lady of the Vale, it would never be accepted, and Harry would try to stake his claim on the Vale then.

  
“Sansa, please don’t make it harder for yourself,” Jon said.

  
Sansa’s eyes snapped back to him. “You are the one that is making it harder, Jon. You bring me my favorite flowers and it only reminds me that I want a future with you,” She paused and stood up in anger. “But I will be doomed to live a life filled with yellow roses and fake smiles, won’t I?”

  
“I need to remind the knights who are on guard duty tonight of their obligations,” Jon commented. He no longer wanted to converse with Sansa. If he did, he would lose his will. All he wanted for her was to be the great leader he knew she could be, and he would just drag her down.

  
“Jon!” Sansa exclaimed behind him, but he did not stop.

  
All he needed was to make it through these next seven months and then he would be at the Wall, safe away from Sansa Arryn and the harm he could cause her.

* * *

  
Sansa stared at the blue roses that sat at her desk the morning after her nameday. The yellow roses had wilted overnight and dried out, but the maids would not come to clean her solar until later today. Her parchment laid blank in front of her, she was going to write to her cousins-all of them- which would take most of her morning. She wanted to hear of the adventures Arya was having in the south, how Robb was taking on his role as Lord of Winterfell, and how the two youngest Starks were fearing especially Bran. Jon being with her had eased the sadness in her heart about leaving her loved ones, but last night, it had become more clear to her that Jon would not ever love her back. Despite his actions always seeming to lead her on, his words always told her a different story, one of rejection.

  
The sound of her solar door’s swinging open caused Sansa to look up from her parchment. “Mother,” she acknowledged.

  
“Daughter,” Lysa frowned as she looked at the yellow flowers wilting on the desk. “Why are Ser Harry’s flowers left lying about?”

  
“I did not like them,” Sansa drawled as her mother stalked forward. Lysa glared at her and picked up the precious blue roses Jon had brought her, and in front of her eyes ripped them up. “Mother!” Sansa yelled.

  
Lysa dropped the remnants of the roses down onto the ground. “Those were from that bastard weren’t they?” Sansa didn’t reply, knowing that somehow her mother knew exactly who the blue roses came from. “Any affections you might as well forget them, I am in the process of arranging you to marry Ser Harry and the bastard will be sent away,” her mother seethed.

  
“You will have to force me to say those vows to that man!” Sansa said with determination and sincerity in her voice.

  
Sansa gasped out in pain as she felt her mother's palm crashing against her cheek. In pain, Sansa held her hand against the fiery skin where her mother had stricken her. “You are insane,” she whimpered as she sunk further back into her chair.

  
Lysa leaned over the desk. “You think your so smart, so pretty, but let me tell you something dear daughter,” her mother grabbed her chin and forced her to look at her. “These men, don’t want you, they want a child from you. At least Ser Harry will let you be after you birth him a brat, some of us aren’t so lucky,” Lysa added as she let go of Sansa’s chin.

  
“Get dressed, Ser Harry wishes to break his fast with you in my solar,” Lysa commented, before turning away.

  
“Mother,” Sansa called out as she stood up. Lysa slowly turned and look at her, “I would enjoy the Vale while you can, because the moment you are no longer my regent, I will send you back to Riverlands to your father,” She threatened.

  
“Dear Daughter, do you think you will ever truly be Lady of the Vale?” Lysa chuckled, before leaving the room.

  
Rubbing her cheek, Sansa wondered if this was the start of the abuse. Her mother had always hit her when they lived together in King’s Landing. The foolish part of her had thought Lysa wouldn’t raise a hand to her now, that somehow, being Lady of the Vale protected her from her mother’s harshness. Nothing and no one could protect her from her mother’s abuses. Her position would protect her outside the walls of her solar and her bedchamber, but she would always be fragile inside these stone walls. Reluctantly, Sansa stood up from her desk. Right now, her mother had the upper hand, and she would play the part of a dutiful daughter and entertain Harry. No one would force her to marry him or anyone else, as she knew it would only lead to her being imprisoned in these very walls. The only person she could trust to protect her was herself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is short to compared to the others, or at least I feel that way, but it subtly sets up the next chapter I plan out. Thank you so much for reading, and I can't tell you how appreciative I am of the support this story is receiving!


	4. Chapter 4

 

Chapter Four

Sansa’s stitches were pulled more taunt then needed and she didn’t bring herself to care as she yanked the silver thread through the fabric. The other ladies were whispering and letting out girlish giggles, and all she wanted was some peace and quiet. It had been little over five months since they arrived at the Vale, but the women of the Vale were more smitten than ever with Jon. Apparently so much so, that one of her mother’s younger handmaidens and followed him out of the feast the other night and kissed him hard on the lips. Jon’s plump lips were ones that she had never even felt pressed against her own lips. In fact, Sansa had not even had her first kiss yet. Her birthday was next week and she would be six and teen, but yet she was still the purest of maidens. Silently, she wondered if the kiss Jon shared with the handmaiden was his first one, or perhaps it was just another kiss added to long list of kisses he had shared with other women. Back at Winterfell, Sansa knew Robb had even laid with a woman, and Theon regularly visited the brothel. Jon though had wanted to go to the Wall, so perhaps, he had a little bit more control than the other two other boys. 

  
  Sansa let out a gasp as she felt the needle pierce her thumb. The other ladies looked up at her with concern. “It’s just a little blood nothing to worry about,” She mumbled before placing her thumb in her mouth to soothe the wound. After a few seconds, she took her thumb out and placed the needle in the fabric. “I think I am done with stitching for the morning,” Sansa announced as she stood.

  
  The other ladies stood and Sansa knew that they were keen to follow her, and all she wanted to be left alone. “I think I would like to take a walk in the Godswood, alone,” She said causing bewildered looks. If the stupid ladies had their way she would never be left alone. Since she arrived in the Vale, a group of Lords always seemed to be arriving to the Eyrie or leaving to pledge their fealty to her. All brought their wives and their daughters hoping that she would find a companion in one of them and perhaps come to favor their family. Sansa didn’t care for the manipulation and so she relished in that fact that the other ladies seemed content to continue their stitching leaving her to go to the Godswood in peace.

  
  The Godswood was more like a garden has no weir wood tree had ever been able to grow in the Eyerie. She knew it was the not the same as the one in Winterfell, but it was one of the few places she was allowed to be herself. If she was not surrounded by the visiting ladies her mother was keeping her close at her side in an attempt to control her. Lysa had never been a caring mother, and Sansa new her mother held no love for her, as Lysa only loved the power that came with being regent. Sansa knew she was a prisoner in her own realm, her words had little power, and it would not be until she reached twenty years that her mother’s regency would end.

  
  “Done sewing already?” came the familiar deep voice of Jon. Sansa turned and saw him dressed in training gear, his hair tousled from wrestling no doubt.

  
  “Come to pray that the Old Gods bless you and my mother’s handmaiden with many children?” Sansa questioned as he sat on the dewy grass next to her.

  
  Jon looked at her, mortified. “Gods, no,” he breathed out. “The woman threw herself at me,” he said.

  
  “A knight let a mere lady take him by surprise?” Sansa replied, not believing that he was caught that off guard. While her mother’s handmaiden was brazen like Lysa herself, Sansa doubted Jon would simply be overtaken by a woman.

  
  “Well, she approached me but I figure she came to tell me you requested me or something,” Jon defended himself. “I never thought she would plant one on me, honestly.”

  
  She could tell Jon was not comfortable with the conversation, but Sansa pressed on for selfish reasons. There were facts she needed to know, because perhaps if she knew Jon had a lover or had ones in the past she would be able to let him go. “Did she steal your first kiss?”

  
  “I am eight and ten, so no,” Jon answered. “I have only two before that and they were simple pecks, I am definitely no Theon,” he mumbled out the last part. “Why are you so interested in who I kiss?”

  
  Sansa’s back straighten. Jon knew she cared about him, but Sansa also knew he didn’t truly believe her affections for him true. “You know why, Jon,” Sansa answered and she could see his gray eyes darkening. He never liked it when he brought her feelings up, and Jon almost always went defensive on her. A few weeks ago when she had mentioned her feelings on her nameday and he had stormed away. This time there was something different behind those eyes of his, there was a slight glistening behind them, and she could tell he was battling himself on something.

  
  Slowly, she saw his hand reach out to cup her face and then ever so gently did his lips descended on her. It was her first kiss, her first belonged to the man she had loved for years. The kiss was everything of her dreams, sweet and soft, and ever so gently did he run his tongue over her lips causing her to gasp and open hers to deepen the kiss. Instinct taking over, she applied pressure against his, and she felt his free arm pressing her into his chest. Her body felt as if she was on fire, and her chest felt as if her heart had stopped from finally gaining some affection back in return.

  
  “I shouldn’t have done that,” Jon gasped as he pulled away. Before, Sansa could say anything he was on his feet, leaving Sansa on the grass by herself.

  
  “Jon, I-” Sansa went to say, but his back was already to her and he was moving fast out of the Godswood. Jon Snow had taken her first kiss. Jon Snow had kissed her. Sansa now knew he held some affections towards her, but it worse fear was confirmed. Jon Snow would never allow himself to love her, for he loved her so much that he would never let her be associated top closely with someone that was a bastard.

* * *

 

  
  Sansa was ruffling about the storeroom for more fabric. She had just finished her lesson with her septa, and they had gone over attaching fur lining to men’s cloaks today. The lesson had caused an idea to form in her head, she could make Jon a new cloak. He could do with perhaps with a new cloak, and even if things had been awkward since the kiss they shared a few days ago, Sansa wanted to do something nice for him. Running her around across a dark thick gray fabric, Sansa smiled. It was dense enough that it would be fitting for when he went North to visit his family, but not thick enough where it would nor be too hot. Carefully, she picked up the small bolt of fabric from its resting place on the wall.

  
  “Is she in there?” Sansa groaned as she heard her mother ask Jon, who was waiting outside the door, a question. Apparently, she couldn’t wait for a response as she came into the storeroom.

  
  “You are supposed to be spending time with Harry right now,” Lysa stated.

  
  Jon was standing in the door, his eyes staring into hers. It was true that her mother was trying to push her and Harry together, but she could only fake her affections for so long. “I rather not,” Sansa snipped.

  
  “It is not about what you want,” Lysa claimed as she came to stand in front of Sansa. “You will spend time with-

  
  “You are not in control of my actions, Mother,” Sansa interrupted, and she knew she had made a fatal mistake.

  
  It happened so quickly, but Sansa could feel the force of two hands squeezing her throat and pushing her body hard against the stone wall. As fast it happened, she could feel the hands being ripped away, from her neck. Jon pulled Lysa across the room and came to stand in between the two of them.

  
  “I could have you thrown in the sky cells for this Bastard!” Lysa yelled, but Jon only placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

  
  “Yes, you could,” Jon paused as he stepped closer to Lysa. “However, I do not think the Hand of the King would be happy to discover that his son sits in the cells of the Eyrie and that his niece, the Lady Paramount, is being abused by her own mother,” Jon clipped.

  
  Slowly, composing herself, Sansa came to stand next to her mother. “Leave me be, Mother, or I will write to Uncle Ned and Grandfather Hoster of your actions,” Sansa said, and she could feel her legs shaking. Lysa turned her back and left as quickly as she came in, the door slamming closed behind her.

  
  Jon’s hand found the small of her back and the other caressed her cheek. “How long?” He asked softly. Sansa too caught up in how it felt to be so gently held by him didn’t respond. “How long?” Jon questioned a little more loudly.

  
  “My whole life,” Sansa answered truthfully. She pushed back the painful memories of the small but powerfull slaps she endured as a child and the harsh words. “The last time she choked me, my father sent me to Winterfell.”

  
  Jon’s eyes widen, and she felt his hand dropping down from her cheek to pull her close to his chest. “Why did you not tell me sooner?” He whispered quietly into her hair, his hand slightly stroking it.

  
  “No one was to know. Father cover up the incident when it happened, and I am not even sure if Uncle Ned and Aunt Cat know what she did to me,” Sansa pulled away, as she knew Jon would remember himself and stop his actions.

  
“I should have known, Sansa,” Jon stated and he sounded so helpless.   


No one in King’s Landing how found about her mother’s abuse until Lysa had choked her so hard she turned blue. Now it was not as bad, Lysa had only laid her hands on her a few times and always behind closed doors. This was the first time her mother did not try to hide her actions. Even in King’s Landing, her mother had only hit her when it was just the two of them, and usually in places that were common for a young girl to have bruises on. But now, her mother’s restraint was slowly slipping away.   


“Would it matter? You can’t protect me from her, Jon.”  


  “I am your sworn shield,” He reminded as he took her hand. “If I can’t protect you from your mother, how am I supposed to protect you from anything else?”   


  Sansa tried to pull her hand away from Jon’s, but he simply pulled her back to him. “No one can protect me, not even you, Jon,” she paused. “Because at the end of this year, you will leave me for the Wall. And I will be unprotected and with a broken h-  


  Suddenly, her words were silenced with his lips. “I won’t leave you,” he breathed against her lips as he pulled away. “I can’t promise you the future you want with us either. But I’ll stay until you no longer want me by your side,” Jon claimed.  


  “Don’t say things like that,” She said. All she wanted to do was believe him, the look in his eyes was telling her to trust him, but Jon had pushed her away perhaps one too many times. “Don’t get my hopes up, for you to only crush them.”  


  “Sansa,” Jon pleaded.   


  Forgetting the bolt of fabric she had come into the supply room to retrieve, Sansa moved away from Jon. “I’ll think I’ll retire in my in chambers until dinner,” she stated before storming out of the room.   


* * *

  
  Dinner was a terrible affair, and Sansa was thankful it ended quickly enough. Harry offered her his arm and Sansa sighed and dismissing Jon from seeing her to her chambers. Her mother was determined for them to be married, and Sansa did not care to be married to Harry the Heir. While most men in the Vale held some respect for him, Sansa listened to the gossip of ladies. Lysa Arryn may treat her like a stupid child most of the time, rarely letting her speak her mind, however, the younger ladies were always trying to befriend her. Sansa had found them the strangest allies, but, she learned information from them and that was what mattered. One of those pieces of information was that Harry had one illegitimate child already, and another one on the way. He was a womanizer, and if she were to marry a man it would be one that only had eyes for her.

  
“My Lady I see we have made it safely to your chambers,” Harry smiled before taking a step to close to her. “Would it be too brazen of me to ask for a kiss?”  
 

“Yes, Ser Harry it would be,” Sansa answered, making sure her defiance was clear in the sound of her voice.

Harry smirked as if he didn’t take her seriously, and suddenly  Sansa felt uncomfortable with him in her presence. Harry leaned in and she turned her face so his lips would only touch her cheek. “My Lady, are you sure you do not wish for a much more passionate kiss, most ladies find much pleasure with a man’s lips on her own.”   
 

Suddenly, Sansa felt so out of control. His arms went to pull her close to him and Sansa went to scream, but his lips were pressing and onto hers. She banged her hands against him and tried to pull away, but he held her against him. It was just a kiss, but he was taking her lips against her will. A kiss was supposed to be hers to give, something that she was only supposed to give to Jon.  
 

“ Jon,” she gasped as she saw Jon hold Harry against the stone wall. His arm was pressing into Harry’s neck and his own sworn drawn ready to plunge into the Knight.   


 “If I ever see you so much look at Sansa in the wrong light again, my wolf will have the pleasure of ending you,” Jon threatened, as Harry slightly struggled against him. Jon slammed him harder against the wall. “Do we have an understanding?” He seethed.   


“Fine,” Harry grumbled out before Jon let him go, the Knight didn’t scramble to his feet. Instead, he looked at Sansa and gave a nod before slowing retreating away from her and down the hall. Only once he was out sight did Jon, sheathed his sword and turned to face her. 

“You followed us?” Sansa breathed out, thankful for his actions.   


Jon moved around her to open her door, “I don’t trust him, and I don’t like the way he looks at you.”   


Sansa wrapped her arms around him, and sighed when he did the same, his back propping the door open. She bested her face into his tunic, her eyes holding back tears. “I didn’t want his kiss, Jon,” she murmured into his chest.   


“I know, Sansa,” he replied softly, and he just simply held her for a few more moments. “You’re safe though, and a good night’s rest will do you well.”   
 

Sansa slowly peeled herself off of Jon. She glanced into her solar and sighed, the fire was already lit for the night, her bedroom door opened, which meant a nightgown had been laid out for her.   
 

“I’ll be outside your door for the night,” Jon paused, “No one is going to come in and hurt you tonight, I swear it.”  


  She was only able to offer him a weak smile as she walked into her room. Things with Jon were still tense after the moments they shared in the storeroom, but, it gave her some comfort to know he would try to protect her. Perhaps it was simply honor that kept him outside her door, or maybe pity, or the small bit of hope in her claimed it was the love he held deep down inside of him.   
    


* * *

  
  
  Harry didn’t shy from her, despite Jon’s threats. However, Jon never let himself be dismissed from Sansa’s presence when Harry the Heir was around, nor did Sansa ever give him the pleasure of taking his arm. Thankfully, Jon was not alone his efforts of keeping Harry Hardyning away from Sansa, Lord Royce who was Keeper of the Gates of the Moon, who often frequented the Eyrie in the interest of other lords and often tried to keep Harry away from her as well. Jon could tell Lord Royce was a loyal lord, as he had held the Vale when Jon Arryn had been at court, and it seemed he had no higher ambitions, and truly wished to serve Sansa. Such loyalty in bannermen was rare in the times they were living in. After seeing Sansa was safely in her chambers after a long day of entertaining visting ladies, Jon began to make his way through the keep only to run into the man who seemed make his job easier.

  
  “Ser Jon,” Lord Royce began, “If you don’t mind would you be willing to spare a moment.”

  
  “Certainly, My Lord,” Jon replied. Lord Royce nodded and gestured for him to follow into the library near by. The library was never used. Lysa spent most of her time barking orders in the Great Hall, and Sansa spent most of her time in the courtyard or in the women’s solar with visiting ladies sewing to her heart content. It seemed that Lord Royce wished to say something that could not make it back to Lady Lysa’s ears.

  
  “I have been communicating with several of the other Lords and bannermen. Lady Lysa is so determined to keep the Vale isolated, she does not see the trouble in Ser Harry’s quest to court her daughter,” Lord Royce said.

  
  Jon slowly let the word sink in to, slowly comprehending what the Lord was saying. No one wanted Ser Harry around Sansa. “If there is ever a threat to The Vale, we know your family would help us, and in return, the Vale is loyal to your father, he is a good man.”

  
  “You want Sansa to marry outside the Vale,” Jon breathed out. Certainly, Lord Royce would not suggest marrying Sansa to Robb. He was the most eligible bachelor in the North and one worthy of Sansa’s hand. However, something did not sit right with the idea of Robb and Sansa wedded.

  
  “Yes, there’s no point in limiting the numbers of Arryn heirs. Harry may be ambitious, but he’s still the blood of Jon Arryn, however, I rather he and any children of his be so far down the line of succession that they have no chance of inheriting the Vale,” Lord Royce said as he went to sit on one of the chairs in the library. “The obvious choice would be your brother, but, the Lords of the Vale need a Lord in the Eyrie, and a man willing for his children not to take his name.”

  
  Jon was already going through the other sons of his father’s bannermen. Lord Bolton had no legitimate sons, and Lord Umber would never let Small Jon give up his family’s name. “My Lord I don’t know of any matches for Sansa, the Lords of the North are proud men and the name may become an issue,” he replied.

  
  “Jon, I am not asking you to play matchmaker,” Lord Royce chuckled, and then he stopped and look at Jon with a solemn expression. “You are a son of the Warden of the North, you would strengthen the Vale’s relationship with the Starks and you have no true name to give your children.”

  
  “I am a bastard,” Jon spit out. “Sansa deserve-

  
  “You are the only one in this entire realm that refers to Lady Arryn by her given name, and it does not take a genius to see the way the Lady looks at you Ser Jon,” the Lord stated with a small smile.

  
  Jon frowned, he was a bastard. Bastards did not marry Lady Paramounts in their own right, bastards didn’t marry high born ladies. “ I swore to protect Sansa, not ruin her by making her a bastard’s wife.”

  
  “What better way to protect her, if you were her husband?”

  
  “It would only open her up to more abuses,” Jon answered. The only thing in life he truly wanted was to keep Sansa safe. How could he keep her safe when she would become opened up to the comments that came along with being a wife of a bastard?

  
  Lord Royce shook his head. “Lord Jon Arryn feared for his daughter. He knew placing Lysa as regent until Sansa was twenty, would deter many suitors while his daughter was still young. Jon Arryn was also a smart man, and knew his wife was not exactly sane,” Lord Royce stated.

  
  Jon knew that Lord Arryn had never understood why Lord Arryn had placed Sansa under a regency, or better yet, why so many Lords seemed to support it, he never understood. However, the reasoning was making sense as Lord Royce’s words went through his mind. No other suitor but Harry had dared approach Sansa after the initial meeting with Lysa. Even though Sansa was fully capable of banishing unwanted suitors herself, Lord Arryn would have tried to protect his daughter to the best of his ability from a man seeking out her hand for the wrong reason.

  
  “Between her insane mother and the fact that Lady Arryn is the most eligible maiden in Westeros she will be sought out for her power, for the Vale,” Lord Royce began. “I know your father, and more importantly, I think you want the same thing as the bannerman, and that is to see Lady Arryn in her rightful place.”

  
  “To protect Sansa, you want me to marry her?” Jon questioned. It seemed unreal. Never once had he believed he could actually marry Sansa.

  
  “What better way to protect then as her husband?” Lord Royce questioned.   
  
The question ran through his head over and over again. His vow to Sansa would end soon, and he would be free to go to the Wall if he wanted. There he could serve the realm, but, there was a strange comfort in knowing Sansa was protected. At the Wall he would never see the face of someone who was thankful for his service, there would be no sweet smile at the Wall to greet him in the morning. Every morning would be spent wondering if Sansa was safe from men like Harry the Heir. His thoughts were running rapid, and Lord Royce let him with a few meaningless words, before he was alone in the library.

  
  “What better way to protect her, if you were her husband?”

  
  A husband was supposed to protect a lady in the most intimate ways, and some husbands instead chose to abuse the rights they had with their wives. As her shield, he could not protect her from her husband’s abuses if she was married to some ill-minded person. Yet, was he even worthy of loving her in the way a man loved his wife. Sudden images that he always held back, flashed in his mind. Only one time he had given into those thoughts when he kissed Sansa in the Godswood, and that kiss had haunted him and it replayed in his mind currently. One time he had failed to keep an unwanted kiss from being forced on Sansa, but, he could give her wanted kisses.

  
  The only sound he could hear was the sound of his boots against the stone floors of the keep as he moved quickly back to a familiar door. In his urgency, he didn’t even feel alarmed by the unbarred door but instead walked into the warm chamber. The most beautiful figure he had ever seen stood in the center of the room, her red hair pushed back over her shoulders. A thin white nightgown barely covering her body, and Jon could not form words, only he crossed the room and kissed her with all the passion he held back for so long.

  
  “Jon,” she gasped as he pulled away.

  
  “Could I?” He stopped wondering what he was doing, yet, he needed to know. “Could I be enough? For you, to love you like a good lord loves a lady?”

  
  His words made no sense, and Sansa looked at him with a puzzled look. “Jon, you’ve always been enough,” Sansa answered him, and he couldn’t help but lean in again.  
  This time her lips return his advances with equal fever, her hands gripping his doublet as much as the taunt fabric allowed, while his fist the thin silk of her nightgown. Her small hands seemed to back them up until Sansa’s knees hit the mattress. Jon's lips left her mouth to suckle on her neck as they leaned back against the mattress. Never in his life did he feel adequate, but in this moment as his hands roamed the length of her barely covered body, Jon knew he was enough. Despite his newfound confidence, he still had his honor, and he knew he needed to pull away before he let himself go too far.

  
  “Jon,” Sansa breathed out as they both parted for air. “This isn’t a dream is it?”

  
  Jon felt the unfamiliar feeling of his lips turning into a grin. Something about seeing Sansa with her hair sprawled out against her bed coverings, her eyes wide and darken with arousal seemed so perfect. “It feels like a dream,” he answered.

  
  “You’re smiling, you never smile,” Sansa chuckled as she propped herself up on her elbows and Jon move to lay on his side.

  
  “I guess it’s not every day that I realize I have a pretty girl who fancies me,” he said before sweeping her into another kiss.   


* * *

  
  Jon steals into her chambers every night after he kisses her with a passion for the first time. They don’t do more than a kiss, and instead, spend most of their night laughing and giggling with one another as the night slips into early mornings. He hasn’t said he loves her, but she can tell by the look in his eyes. Jon is in love with her, and Sansa knows a happiness that she has never known before. Jon, too, he is no longer is usual brooding self. When she sees him training with the other knights, he cracks a smile every now and then just because he can. Others can see how Jon hand no longer holds his sword as he walks beside her down the halls of the Eyrie, but instead, her arm is hooked in his. The thin line between friendship and lovers has been crossed, and deep down inside she knows its almost too good be true. The gods would not be so good to a woman, she would not be able to keep both her birthright and her love. If it came between the Vale and Jon, Sansa’s heart would choose Jon.  Ten times over. She could be a poor pauper as long as she could lay her head next to him each night and wake to his slight smile next to her.

  
  The gods are not good. Just a moon’s turn into their happiness, they are discovered by her mother.

  
  “You, Bastard!” Lady Lyssa exclaimed as she walked into Sansa’s bedroom.

  
  Jon’s arms that were once wrapped around her in a sweet embrace pull away quickly. The smile on his face disappeared into oblivion. “You were to be my daughter’s sworn shield not take her to bed!” Her mother yelled.

  
  Sansa’s regretted being dressed in her nightgown, and Jon’s simple pair of breeches and tunic didn’t help the appearance of the situation. “Mother it is not like that,” Sansa replied, calmly. If there was one thing she knew about her mother, it was that she tended to grow more insane in her fits. 

  
  “My dear, foolish, daughter,” Lyssa frowned as she locked eyes with Jon. “Every man that ever comes to you will only want one thing,” she then turned her attention to her daughter, walking straight until there were mere inches separating their faces. “All that boy wants, is to put a bastard in you, so that he can have your birthright, he does not love you,” her mother paused. “No one loves you.”

  
  Jon wouldn’t even dare the risk of putting a bastard in her. “Mother, Jon-

  
  “Is not worthy of you. He’s a bastard who will never be accepted as your husband, he’s nothing but a mistake your Uncle should have left with whatever whore was his mother.” 

  
  The words hung in the air, and Sansa reaches out to Jon, but he’s already stalking out of the room. Sansa tried to follow him, but Lysa holds her back. For so many years, Sansa had tried to break down Jon’s walls. He had always been so worried that he wouldn’t be enough, but her mother’s nonsense being spoken out loud, was like a dagger in his heart. Sansa knows he loves her so much that he would never let her choose between her duty and him. For if he had to choose, between her birthright and himself, Jon would see her be Lady of the Vale for in some twisted way, he believed she could do right by her people. 

  
  “How could you?” Sansa screeched as she pushed herself away from her mother. “How can you hate your own daughter so much that you refuse to let her be happy?” 

  
  Tears are streaming down freely across Sansa’s cheekbones, but her mother bears no emotion. “I am looking out for you, it’s high time you accept that you will not marry for love.” 

  
  “What did I ever do to?” Sansa questioned as her mother slowly began making her way to the door. “You’ve tried to kill me when I was a child and now you break my love’s heart, what did I do?” 

  
  Lyssa stilled, her back going rigid. “I loved a man, but I was forced to marry your father,” she slowly answered still facing the door. “Five years into my marriage with your father, there was some talk of an annulment since I never got with child, and I had hope. Hope that I would get to be free to marry my love,” Lyssa faced her then. “You were born, and my hope was lost.” 

  
  The truth had never hurt so much, “You hate me, because of your loveless marriage?”

  
 The answer never came from her mother’s mouth, but her mother exit from her room was the clear response. Sansa cried as she flung herself on her bed. Lysa would never let her be loved by Jon because her mother blamed her own daughter for being separated from her love. Now, Lysa’s words had most likely ripped down the confidence in Jon that Sansa had waited so patiently for him to build up. No matter how much she hoped or tried, it seemed that something would always tear them apart. In her anger she wished she could cursed the gods for making her love Jon so much, but at the same time his love was the only thing she truly cared for.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading this chapter! I hoped you enjoyed it! Also, thanks for all the support from previous chapters :)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

  
  
After finding Jon in her chambers, her mother all but removed Jon from his service as a sworn shield and kept her isolated in her room. It had been a week, and Sansa had not seen him. Most days, she felt miserable, as if her heart had been taken from her chest. Today, she simply wanted nothing more to run into his arms and tell him to take them away. They were never going to be happy here, or least as long her mother was regent. However, Sansa truly began to fear that the Lord’s would always be loyal to her mother and not herself.

  
“Jon,” Sansa hesitantly said as she saw him emerge into the room, after announcing his presence rather formally.

  
“Court is going to start,” He paused. “Lady Catelyn told me to keep an eye on you with Tyrion Lannister, here,” Jon added.

  
A day ago, her Lady Aunt had come to the Eyrie with Tyrion Lannister in her capture. The two Tully sisters shared a mutual hatred towards the Lannisters, Lysa claimed that the Lannisters had murdered Jon Arryn, while Catelyn claimed they were behind the plot to murder her son Bran. In all honesty, Sansa did not care for any of them. However, she did not know if the Lannisters were truly behind either event. Usually, she would trust Lady Catelyn, but she did not trust her mother, leaving Sansa perplexed on the stance.

  
“Where have you been this past week?” Sansa asked as she placed her needlework down and moved across the room to be closer to him. “I missed you," she added quietly looking down at her feet, unsure if he had missed her as well.

  
Jon placed his hand on the pommel of his sword. “I was training mostly,” he finally answered.

  
It seemed like there was so much distance in between them, and she wondered why. They had been so close and then her mother had ruined everything. “Jon, what my mother said-

  
“Sansa, I thought for the past week and-

  
“Don’t,” She commanded. Sansa knew he was going to say that they couldn’t continue with their shared affections, and perhaps that he was going to go to leave.

“I should go to the Wall, Sansa,” Jon stated. “You may think that I can be the great Lord one day, but at the end of the day I am always going to be a bastard.”

  
Boldy, Sansa closed the space between them and pressed her lips again his. Jon responded, pulling her close, one hand tangling in her hair and the other low on her back. “I love you,” the words she had always felt slipped out of her mouth. Jon stilled and his eyes lightened for a second, but she could tell he caught her off guard. “That is the only thing that is supposed to matter,” she added.

  
Jon responded with a hard kiss, and she tugged gently on his tunic. Although he didn’t share the same words, Sansa knew it deep down he felt the same way. “We don’t live in a world where love is the only thing that matters, Sansa,” his voice struggling to force the words out. “We need to get to court,” he said before pulling away from her.

  
“Don’t push me away, Jon.”

  
Jon stilled and turned to her. “I should go to the Wall, Sansa.”

  
Defeated, Sansa began to walk past him, but he grabbed her arm lightly. “I should go to the Wall,” he said again as his gray eyes bearing into her blue ones. The words were strangled and she could tell, being here, was hurting him too. Maybe their love was simply doomed.

  
Suddenly, Sansa realized it wasn’t enough, just having him in her presence. A pain in her heart was forming, Jon would never be hers in the way she wanted him. Perhaps it was selfish to keep him here, he would never love her the way she wanted to be love, and Jon would never allow himself to get too close. “You’re right, we should get to court,” Sansa mumbled and pulled away and strode out of her room.

* * *

 

Jon knew he had upset Sansa. However, after the encounter with her mother, he knew Lord Royce was wrong. No matter how many Lords of the Vale backed him, Sansa would face disapproving opinions of other Lord Paramounts if she was wed to a bastard. It was one thing for her to have the respect of the Lords of the Vale, it was another to gain the respect of the other Lord Paramounts and Wardens. It hurt him though, to hurt her, all he wanted was to keep her safe. Yet, as Sansa sat next to her mother in the Great Hall of the Eyrie, Jon could see how defeated she was. Even with her beloved Aunt standing next to her, Jon could tell he had broken a little bit of her heart. Perhaps, he should go to the Wall. It was foolish of him to ever think he could keep her safe when he was guilty of the worst crime that could be done to her, and that was heartbreak.

  
Once, Sansa had been so hopeful and beautiful, perhaps a little naive. In Winterfell, she had grand dreams, of marrying for love and recite every single song about Florian and the Dragonknight he wondered if her head wasn’t lost in those songs. However, her belief in love and happy endings, was what made her so easy to love, and now, he wanted nothing more than to see her be so carefree again. Yet, Jon knew, allowing her to be carefree would be a greater disservice to her.

  
“Do you wish to confess your crimes Lannister?” Lady Lysa questioned looking at her sister.

  
While Jon was worried about Sansa, he couldn’t help but keep his eyes on Tyrion. If this man truly did hurt Bran, Jon knew he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He would cut him down, to where he was nothing but small parts. Looking over to Sansa, he could tell that she was unhappy with being in the mere room as Tyrion. She loved all the Starks as if they were her own siblings, and yet, she did not even have the power to bring one’s attempted attacker to justice.

  
“Yes, my Lady,” Tyrion answered with a grin. Jon knew that Tyrion had no desire to answer the question, and yet for a solid five minutes he listened to Tyrion lament on the childish pranks he was guilty of committing.

  
“Silence!” Lady Lysa commanded. “How dare you make a mockery of this? And to speak of brothers and whores in front of my precious daughter?”

  
Both he and Sansa were unable to hide their faces of disbelief, and Jon could see Lord Royce give him a look. It was clear that the Lord was not happy with him, but at the end of the day, Jon didn’t know if he could trust the Lord. If Lord Royce was true to his word and did not want Sansa to be used as a pawn, he would not have approached him about marrying her.

  
“Lord Tyrion, you are accused of hiring a man to slay my son Bran in his bed, and of conspiring to murder my sister’s husband Lord Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King,” Lady Catelyn said as regal as ever. She may be the Lady of Winterfell, but Catelyn had always been tactful in her words.

“I sorry, I don’t know anything about all that,” Tyrion stated.

  
Lysa stood in anger. “You’ve had your little joke now, Mord, take him back to the sky cells,” She shouted to the guard.

 

“Is this how justice is done in the Vale?” Tyrion questioned with a roll of his eyes. It was easy to see the dwarf was not happy with his treatment.

 

“No, this is how my mother dispenses justice,” Sansa said. The comment was most likely meant to be said underneath her breath, but the words were just loud enough for most people in the hall to hear.

 

Lysa’s face turned sour, and he could see Sansa bracing herself for a hit. In front of everyone, Jon found himself grabbing Lysa’s arm to stop her from striking her own daughter. Lysa seemed to know she made a mistake, as her own sister was pulling Sansa up from the chair next to her. “Jon, why don’t you take Sansa back to her rooms. She shouldn’t be in the same room as a Lannister, they’re dangerous,” Lady Catelyn suggested, and it seemed to ease the tension in the room.

Jon dropped Lysa’s arm, and Sansa began walking out of the room before his own legs do so. All eyes of the court were no longer on Tyrion but on Sansa. It took all of his willpower not to command them to look away, but he did not have the power to do so.

“Why did you do that?” Sansa questioned angrily once there out of the Great Hall.

“What was I supposed to do let her hit you?” They stormed through the halls. They were both angry. Jon was pissed at himself for not being in the Great Hall to see Tyrion sentenced for his crimes against his brother, and at Lysa for her treatment of Sansa.

“Yes!” Sansa exclaimed rather loudly as she threw open her solar’s doors. “Perhaps if they saw, people would remove her from power.”

“Well, next time I let her hit you!” Jon agreed back.

“Good!” Sansa said stepping closer to him.

“Fine,” He said and he could feel how close she was to him. The pink lips of hers were so close to him, and then the next thing he knew, he was crashing his lips against hers.

It seemed like all his willpower was gone. They were both fighting for dominance in the kiss as they blindly moved through the room. Sansa gasped as she came into contact with the couch, and Jon pressed their bodies flushed against the cushions. A part of knew he wouldn’t be to stop himself as he began suckling on her neck, and she working on the ties of his jerkin. Pulling himself away from her for a second, he pulled his now offensive top off and pulled her skirts up.

“I am going to touch you now,” Jon said.

All his doubts didn’t matter, or his pent-up frustration. The only thing that matter was the withering body underneath him. His mouth attacked her breast hungrily and he could help but groan a how good Sansa felt. Her skin was everything he imagined, soft and delicate. So, Jon couldn’t help but let his mouth wonder further south to the apex of her smooth thighs. Luckily, his hands didn't betray him as he yanked her smallclothes down. Never in his life did he think he would have been thankful for the dirty talk Robb and Theon exchanged but as he swiped his tongue along Sansa’s folds and was greeted with nothing but eager encouragements for Sansa, he couldn’t help but be happy he listened to them. Jon worked his mouth against her, until Sansa was gasping for breath and coming down from her high.

“I am still angry with you,” She murmured as he pulled her skirts back down.

Jon slowly nodded. He didn’t regret his actions in the Great Hall or on her couch, but he knew things between them were more complicated than ever. He had just crossed a line that he knew the only way to uncross it would be to sentence himself to the Wall. At the same time, he could never imagine a world without her.

“Are you still thinking about going to the Wall?” Sansa quietly asked as he began to pull on his discarded shirt, and she straightened her dress to cover her once exposed chest.

“I don’t know,” He answered. “I know I am not good enough for you, Sansa, it doesn’t matter if I love you too,” Jon said.

Sansa’s blue eyes teared up, and Jon couldn’t help but feel the weight on chest increase. He never wanted her to cry, he feared she cried too much. “Do you love me?”

The question hung in the air. Jon wasn’t even sure if he knew what love was. His family he loved, but they were family. He would do anything for any of his siblings as they had grown up together, had lived side by side, and shared the same blood. Blood was an unbreakable bond, and a part of him, always assumed loved meant some type of stronger connection. Even though Sansa claimed she loved him, Jon didn’t know if love was something that could be applied to those who did not share blood. He had seen it first hand his whole life, Lady Catelyn never loved him as he was not her son, and Theon respected Lord Stark but did not love him as a father. Jon knew he cared deeply for Sansa, but love was something he did not know if he could commit too, or if he was even capable of.

Luckily, the sound of Sansa’ maids entering her bedchamber through the servant's door reached their hears before he was expected to answer. Sansa hurriedly, ran to her bedchamber so he would not be found in her solar. When he heard the sounds of Sansa conversing with her maid, he snuck out of her room as quietly as possible. Although his room was not far from Sansa’s, Jon was careful to avoid the main hallway, not wanting people to see him in his disheveled state. Sansa had thoroughly wrecked his hair, and he was sure her scent lingered on him. Not that he minded her scent lingering on her, or how her taste still filled his mouth. It was the farthest they had ever gone before Lysa had caught them, clothes had always remained on and he never dared to touch her in the most intimate ways, but he had found himself hiking her skirts up and simply feasting on her. While he knew he enjoyed it very much, he only hoped Sansa had as well. She had squirmed and gasped and if it wasn’t for his sanity coming back for a few moments, Jon knew he would have taken her right then and there. But they were on the sofa in her solar, and they were not married, and a part of him still believed himself to belong at the Wall.

 

“Jon,” Lady Stark stood before his door, and Jon instantly stiffened. Lady Stark was her usually cordial self since arriving to the Vale, but her face seemed to grow hard at the sight of his unfasten jerkin, and his rumpled tunic showing underneath it.

 

“Lady Stark, may I be of service?”

 

“You were supposed to protect Sansa,” Catelyn snipped. “I was only agreed with Ned about your position here because I thought you would keep Sansa safe from my sister,” she added.

 

All his life he truly did not care for Lady Stark, but in this moment, rage filled his body. “You knew?!” He yelled. “You knew what your sister was capable of and you allowed Sansa to come here?”

   
Catelyn took a step back. “I knew what she did in King's Landing, but Jon Arryn assured me before his death she was better,” she responded carefully. “However, it seems that you have not only failed in keeping her safe but you seem to want to ruin her reputation.”

 

Jon stilled. Lady Catelyn was always a smart woman. “Sansa is a maid.”

 

“Good,” She paused. “It shall stay that way because you will go back to Winterfell and I will have Robb find a more suitable place for you.”  
In Winterfell, Jon had no choice but to listen to Lady Stark. She was his father’s wife and the Lady of the Winterfell, but they were no longer in Winterfell. More importantly, he held a position under Sansa’s pleasure. “My place is here.”

  
“I did not raise my sister’s daughter, to see her ruined like Lysa. You cannot be trusted with her and your appearance speaks for the very reason why,” Catelyn spoke. Jon knew what she was referring to, it was whispered around the Vale that the youngest daughter had been married to Jon Arryn who was old enough to be her father because of her ruined maidenhead.

“I would not do that to Sansa,” Jon paused. “And with as much respect as possible Lady Stark, I am not in your household anymore,” he finished.

Lady Stark frowned. “Well, if you do not listen to me, maybe Sansa will,” she threatened before storming away.

Jon knew what Lady Stark was implying. If he could not be persuaded away, she would convince Sansa to send him away. Compared to Lysa, Catelyn was more of a mother to Sansa, and she grew up with adoration for her aunt. However, Jon did not know if she held that much influence over Sansa. Or maybe, a part deep down in him, knew Sansa would never willingly send him away. She supposedly loved him too much do so.

* * *

  
Sansa was sitting on the small cushion seat in front of her vanity. Jon was long gone and her mind was in overdrive, but her soft bristle brush gliding through her hair was slowly calming her. Jon didn’t give her a flat out no when she asked the question she wanted an answer to. Yet, it was not the joyous and quick yes that she longed for. Maybe he just couldn’t accept his feelings for her, half the time he struggled with accepting the fact that even Robb, his brother, truly cared for him. She knew that it all boiled down to him never truly being a Stark. No matter how much his siblings loved him, Jon would always doubt himself. Because no matter how much Ned Stark loved him, his father had never dared give him the name he rightly deserved.

  
“Aunt Catelyn,” Sansa smiled as she saw her aunt standing in the doorway of her bedchamber. The maid who had been stoking her fire had informed that her Aunt was the door moments before, and so she was not surprised to see her aunt in the doorway.

 

“Do you need help?” Catelyn asked, but she was already was walking toward Sansa.

Sansa simply handed her the brush when Catelyn came to stand behind her. Just like many nights in Winterfell, Catelyn gently ran the brush through Sansa’s hair with a sad smile. “You know, when you came to live with us, I was so happy,” Catelyn said.

Sansa was surprised. At the time of her arrival, her aunt had two children and a newborn. “You were?” Sansa hesitantly asked.

Catelyn smiled at her through the mirror. “After Robb, and around the time you were born, I was with child,” her aunt’s brushing stilled. “The babe was born, a little girl, her hair was as red as yours, but she didn’t make a sound. Stillborn,” Catelyn sadly confirmed.

“I never knew,” Sans breathed out. No one in Winterfell had ever mentioned a babe lost. Robb would have been the only Stark sibling in existence at the time of the birth would have been too young to remember. It was clear that it still pained Catelyn to talk about it, and perhaps it was the reason why she loved her children so protectively.

Catelyn sighed. “I couldn’t even name her I was so distraught. Ned begged me to, and I thought I had settled on a name, but then a raven from my sister came,” She paused and looked down at Sansa. “My sister had a daughter, and had given her the very name I thought of giving my babe, Sansa,” she explained. Lady Catelyn had always treated her like a daughter, and maybe in some ways, she was very much the babe that Catelyn lost. “You may be my niece, but, you have always been like my daughter, and so I must ask you as a mother to send Jon Snow away.”

  
Sansa’s mouth went dry. Her Lady Aunt was telling her to send Jon away. While Sansa knew, Lady Catelyn did care for her as a mother, she knew that she did not have any love for Jon. “Aunt Catelyn, I can’t, I love him,” she pleaded. Surely, Lady Catelyn would understand that she was in love after all Catelyn’s life had been filled with her love for Ned.

Catelyn went to kneel before Sansa. “Darling girl,” She began as cupped Sansa’s face. “You are so young, you may think you love him, but your just a girl enamored with the idea of marrying someone that you can make better. You need a strong man, one that knows what it means to be a Lord. Jon Snow is not that man.”

  
Sansa stood up and paced across the room. “He loves me,” Sansa said with her back facing Catelyn although Sansa didn’t know it was true, she felt it was. “The only reason he cannot say it is because of you,” she accused as she turned to face him. “His whole life he’s been made to doubt the love of his family because of your influence.” It was true, Catelyn had never encouraged her children to spend time with Jon, and often times she tried to have Jon be removed from lessons with her children.

  
Catelyn frowned, “Sansa, I love you and I will not see you ruin your future on some bastard.”

Sansa crossed her arms and held back her tears. “I think I should go to bed now,” Sansa replied.

As deeply as she loved her Aunt, she did not want to spend time-fighting with her. Although her opinion matter, Sansa knew it was biased. Catelyn would never care for Jon Snow in any form or fashion. More importantly, her aunt had her own troubles with Bran. Her anger towards anyone was easily heightened right now. When she lived in Winterfell, Sansa would not have been able to sleep knowing Catelyn was crossed with her, but as she watched her Lady Aunt leave her room visibly unhappy with her, Sansa could not bring herself to care. The only person that would be able to drive Jon away from the Vale, would be Jon himself.

* * *

 

It was early in the evening, and Sansa sat next to her mother. Her Lady Aunt was not present, and Sansa could not say she was disturbed by her Aunt’s absence. Ever since the week before when Catelyn told her to send Jon away, Sansa had been avoiding her. The thing that disturbed her was Jon, he had his guard up around her more than ever. He seemed like he was in conflict, and every time he looked at her she could tell he was thinking. Thinking of what she did not know, perhaps he was thinking of leaving her to go to the Wall, or maybe he was pondering on how to tell her he did not love her. The waiting was eating away at her, but Sansa knew soon enough should have an answer. Either Jon did not love or her or he didn’t, either way, she knew she needed to know the answer. She deserved to know if he loved her, an if not, she would try to move on.

  
“You’ve had this since dawn!” Lady Catelyn exclaimed as she burst into her mother’s solar. Sansa looked up from her embroidery and was met where her Lady Aunt’s enraged faced as she held out a message sent by a raven.

  
“King's Landing sent it to me not you, I only let you see it as a courtesy,” Lysa replied. Sansa looked down at the handkerchief she was working on in order to hide her eye roll from her mother.

  
“A courtesy? My husband had been taken as a prisoner and my son rides to war?” Catelyn asked outraged. 

  
Sansa snapped her head up. “What has happened to Uncle Ned?” She asked. Ned was more like a father to her than her own father, and his own son was her sworn shield for the time being. She had not heard from her Uncle in a long time, and Sansa wondered if Jon had either or Robb. What on earth was Robb thinking calling his banners?  
Catelyn didn’t get a chance to respond as her mother was already talking.

“Your son? Against the Lannisters? You should go to him and teach him patience,” Lysa stated with a crazed look on her face. Her mother wasn’t sane, and she cursed her father and his stupid will claiming Lysa would be her regent until she came of age.

  
Sansa didn’t know if she could make it another four years underneath her mother, if she had been a boy, there would have been no regent. “Ned rots in a dungeon and you speak of patience? He is your brother by law! Does family mean nothing to you?” Catelyn asked.

  
“Family means everything to me, and I will not risk my daughter’s life in another one of your husband’s wars!”

  
“Mother!” Sansa exclaimed. If the Starks were raising their banners, Sansa wanted her banners raised alongside them, even if she did not understand truly why Robb was doing what he was. They were family, Lady Catelyn was Lord Stark were more parents to her than her own. Robb, Arya, Bran and Rickon were not just cousins, but her siblings. If her beloved Uncle Ned was in a dungeon, she wanted him out and she was willing to risk the Knights of the Vale’s lives to do so. “Lord Stark is my Uncle, and Robb is like a brother to me,” she tried to reason.

  
“And the Lannisters killed your father, and they supposedly pushed your Aunt’s boy out a window. The Knights of the Vale will stay in the Vale to protect you, my Love, now put your stitching up and go to bed,” her mother ordered. It didn’t matter what Sansa’s opinion was the Knights of the Vale may be loyal to her, but at the end of her day, her mother held the power. What Lysa said, what Lysa ordered, was law until she was old enough.

  
Usually, Sansa would bundle up her stitching just perfectly, but tonight in anger she threw it on the settee. How could her mother betray Robb and Uncle Ned? If she was Lady in her own right, she would be calling the banners without hesitation. The Starks were the ones she was loyal to and not just the Starks but her Tully relatives as well. Family was the first part of her own mother’s house’s words, but it seemed Lysa had forgotten about them. “Don’t get used to this power Mother, it’ll be mine one day,” she seethed before leaving the room.

  
Sansa hurried through the halls of the Eyrie. If Lady Catelyn had not known about Lord Stark’s imprisonment, neither did Jon and he deserved to know before it was common gossip among the halls. Jon loved his father and held a deep respect for him. Anybody that came into contact with Ned Stark respected him, he was the definition of honorable. It did not make sense that he was even imprisoned, but nevertheless, Jon needed to know. She didn’t even bother to knock on his door, but instead simply barged into his room. Luckily he was still dressed lounging on the small chair in front of his fireplace. He looked at her with a confused look on his face, and Sansa closed the door behind her.

  
“Sansa,” Jon said her name with confusion, Ghost beside him even popped his head up as if he was wondering what she was doing in the room.

  
Taking a deep breath as she closed the door behind her, Sansa prepared herself for the worse. The moment she told Jon the news of his father, things would never be the same. “I have bad news from King’s Landing,” She began as Jon stood up from his spot on the well-worn chair. “Uncle Ned has been imprisoned,” she finished.

  
“What?” Jon questioned as he took a step closer to him. “Why on earth would my father be imprisoned? He is Hand of the King!”

  
“I don’t know, but Robb has called the banners,” Sansa stated.

  
Jon ran his hands through his dark unruly curls and clear frustration was painted onto his face. The news did not bring any answers, only problems with little understanding of what caused the problems. “I should go to Robb,” he said, looking at her.

  
Sansa wasn’t sure about much, but she was sure she couldn’t let Jon leave her. “Mother doesn’t intend on letting the Knights of Vale join Robb’s cause,” Sansa admitted. “Technically, you are a Knight of the Vale, Jon,” she added. The moment he had been knighted, he had officially become a knight sworn to her. While he was truly a northern man, his sword did not belong to the North, it belonged to her, the Lady of the Vale.

  
“You wouldn’t let me go?” Jon questioned.

  
Sansa hated the question the moment it was asked. Of course, she did not want him to go riding off to war, as there was no guarantee that he would return. However, Jon would never forgive her if she kept him here, safe and with her. “I will,” She struggled to say the words. “But, the Knights of the Vale will not be coming with you, Jon.”

Jon shook his head. “Lord Stark is like your father, and Robb calls you a sister, you would leave them to rot?” This time the anger showed through his questioning.

“What choice do I have? I am sixteen, she’s my regent until I am twenty. Unless you stay and help me find a way to end her regency and make me a lady in my own right,” Sansa proposed. She prepared herself for rejection because deep down she knew Jon was more loyal to his brother than herself. The bond between brothers was stronger, then a bond between a girl and simple man.

  
“If I help you, and we succeed, your swords would go to my brother?” Jon asked

  
Sansa smiled. “Robb is like my own brother, and Lord Stark is like my father, I would fight for them myself if I knew how to use a sword,” she answered.

  
“Why can’t I help you from afar?” Jon questioned and she could tell he was conflicted. Robb was his brother, and perhaps the one person in the world that he loved more than their father. Despite the love she had for Jon, she knew they weren’t a possibility. Jon would never love her, he saw her as a friend and only a conditional friend. His worst fault has he let his bastard status define his life, and she knew he would never let himself get to close to her. Nobility didn’t trust bastards, especially a single Lady Paramount, but how she wished he would see how wrong he was. At eight she realized she liked Jon, and ever since then her feelings for him had only grown.

  
“It’s not exactly easy sending ravens to moving camps, Jon,” Sansa replied as she turned away. For a few moons she had him safe in the Vale, but it was time for him to become a man. If she didn’t let him serve his brother, he would never forgive her. “Go to your brother, Jon, I am safe in the mountains of Eyrie.”

  
“Sansa,” her name was drawled out his lips, and she held back her tears. “Why won’t you look at me and tell me that?”

  
For a second, she let her self-restraint go. She was spinning around and pressing her lips against his, her arms wrapping around her neck with no permission on his part. They had been so distant since she questioned if he loved her. She feared she would never once know again how his lips felt against her. Yet, surprisingly, strong arms pulled her closer, his rough lips firmly pressed to hers. It was over in a matter of moments, both pulling away to gasp for breath.

  
“I don’t want you to go, Jon,” Sansa said looking into those dark gray eyes of his. “I am selfish, and I want you with me where you are safe,” she admitted. It didn’t matter if she couldn’t have him completely in the way she wished, but Sansa wanted nothing more than to have him safe.

  
He pulled away, his arms leaving her waist and she knew she had lost their one moment together. “My safety doesn’t matter My Lady, I thank you for releasing me from my vows.”

  
Sansa stepped away looking at him, her heart was burning. “Did I ever have a chance?” She questioned. If he was going to leave to war, she wanted to know if ever could love her. It was not an unfair question. All Sansa had ever done was love him, and maybe he did not want that love, but in her mind, she deserved something for the feelings she felt towards him.

  
“I have no keep to offer you, no gold, no bannermen, I am a Snow,” Jon replied. “The Vale would never give up the name Arryn for Snow.”

  
The explanation hurt her heart, more than the word no ever could. Jon, her sweet Jon, could not see she was not just willing, not just accepting, but did not see the problem with at her side. Although she loved the songs of romances of long ago, Sansa knew her perfect prince was not truly a prince, but a rugged northern man. Yet, in his eyes, her love was just foolish. At the end of the day, she could tell by his words, he believed that she would go on and marry for political gain. While that may be true for other ladies, Sansa would not submit herself to that, she had seen the damage it had done to her mother, and she would never allow herself to become Lysa.

Suddenly it came to her, “You know nothing, Jon Snow!” She declared before storming out of his room. It was true, Jon didn’t know a thing about love. He was just a boy, who could hold her hurt, but he rather go and fight. Glory, honor, pride, meant more to him than love. Jon would never love her. He would never open his eyes and realized that he already had all the things that he wanted to earn for himself. Jon had the honor of being from a noble house, the glory of earning his knighthood, and the pride that came with being a good man. Yet, it seemed Jon Snow's greatest fault now, was the fact he didn't know what love was.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this chapter! I hoped you all enjoy this chapter and trust me there will some interesting turns in the next chapter :) Also, thanks for the overall support for this story, it means so much!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

 

Lady Catelyn left in the morning, but he did not. Jon could not sleep after his conversation with Sansa, Robb had always jested that Sansa had eyes for him, but Jon had never thought it to be true. Sansa was not in his league. She was to be Lady of the Vale, and Sansa was right, he had allowed his status to rule his heart’s affections. All night he had thought of her, off the years he had repressed his emotions. Had tried to not act affected when she smiled at him or asked him to escort her, not even when she suggested he come to Vale, did he dare hope that it was because she had stronger feelings for him. Staring out his window, he did realize something, he knew nothing about a woman’s affections. However, as he watched the sun rise over the Vale, Jon knew he loved Sansa.

  
He loved her.

  
For a while, he was unsure if he even knew what love was. However, as he watched Sansa storm away from him last night, and he could tell, she was wasn’t going to wait for him. If he did not admit his feelings to her, Sansa would rightly begin to move on her with her life. For so long he had pushed her away, instead of doing what he should do, pulling her closer. The thought of living without her became too much for him. All throughout his life, he could always count on Sansa to give him a sweet smile, even if did not deserve it. He had taken her for granted for too long and now he realized how foolish he was. For months he had been wrestling with the idea of loving her, for so long she had been out of his reach, a dream truly, but yet here in the Vale it somehow became a reality.

  
See Roderick had come to his room before dawn, offering to take him on the journey to Robb’s camp. Tyrion had been released and Lady Catelyn saw no reason for staying in the Eyrie, however, Jon declined the offer to travel with Ser Roderick and Lady Catelyn to his brother’s camp. Now, was not the time him to run away for Sansa. For years, he had suppressed his emotions, not acting on them, and in the process, he had hurt Sansa. While he was determined to go fight for his brother, but he could not leave Sansa with her thinking he did not love her. Perhaps it was selfish, but, if he could only have a few days with her before going to war, he would cherish those days for the rest of his life. The part of Jon that was always telling him he wasn’t good enough, was telling him that he was enough. He was enough for Sansa, and he wanted no other man to ever love her the way he loved her.

  
It was still early and Jon knew Sansa would still be in her solar breaking her fast by herself. After dressing, he decided he could no longer wait. His feet moved through the halls and he found himself walking into her solar, unannounced.

  
“What are you doing here?” She asked from the chair she was sitting in. “Lady Catelyn left before I rose this morning, I assumed you went with her,” Sansa stated.

  
The indifference in her voice pained him, but, he knew he had hurt Sansa. He had hurt when he was not able to admit that he did love her, and when he was so eager to rush to war that he brushed away her affections for him. A part of Jon was scared he was too late, that he had pushed Sansa away one too many times, but it was now or never. Jon had to tell her how he felt, and not just felt, but he would act on his feelings. If she did not take him, it did not matter. Sansa Arryn would be the only woman he would ever love, today, tomorrow, and the rest of his days, no matter how numbered they may be.

  
Jon took several powerful steps to her and then kneeled. “You claim I know nothing, and you are right in some aspects, but in others, I know much. I have no keep, I have no honorable name or bannermen to give you, but I have my heart and my sword, that is all I can offer you,” he could see the shock her eyes and he slowly took her hand.

  
“If you wish to have me, I will be yours till the day I die Sansa Arryn, only if you do the honor of becoming my wife because that is the only way I wish to love you,” Jon admitted. Never in a million years, did he think this moment would ever come into existence. Yet, it suddenly felt so right. The thought of being able to love Sansa in the most honorable true way consumed him. He wanted her to be his, and for everyone in all the realms to know, that Sansa Arryn was his to love.

  
The words hung in the air for a few fractions of a second, he could see her blue eyes were swimming with an emotion. “Oh Jon,” She cried out before throwing her arms and herself at him. “Yes, yes, a million times yes,” her words seemed to make his heart exploded.

  
Jon held her close to her, and he realized how foolish he had been. Nothing seemed so perfect the holding her close against her, he pulled away just enough to kiss her firmly on her lips. When they finally pulled away Sansa’s face was red with blush but the brightest smile he had seen on her face. “Will you forgive me for being a fool?” Jon quietly asked.

  
“Only if you come back to me in one piece from the war,” she answered.

  
Jon hadn’t thought of how the war would fit into asking for Sansa’s hand. He didn’t like that thought of leaving her behind waiting for him. “Marry me today,” Jon said the words coming out of his mouth faster then he could actually decide if they were a good idea or not. “I know you won’t have the dress you want and it won’t be in the eyes of the Old Gods for me, but marry me today so I can hope to come back to my wife.”

  
Sansa kissed him quickly before pulling away. “Are you sure?” She asked.

  
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

  
Sansa just grinned and kissed him again. Jon pulled her closer to him, and he didn’t know where his senses were, however, he didn’t care. “How long will it take for you to get dressed?”

  
“A few minutes, if you help me,” she answered. Sansa was currently just wearing her nightgown. Jon knew that she certainly couldn’t get married in that, but, he wasn’t sure how they were going to get married. The godswood here was not an option for him as he truly didn't even see it as one, and the septon that resided in the Eyrie would surely not marry them without her mother’s consent.

  
Sansa took his hand and led him into her bedroom, she dropped his hand to pull out a beautiful silk dress. “No,” Jon said the answer to their problem coming to his mind.

Sansa looked at him confused, but he went to pull a more simple traveling dress out of the wardrobe. “We’ll have to go to Gates of the Moon to marry,” he answered. Lord Royce would most likely help them, and he would be a credible witness if her mother tried to argue about the validity of their union.

  
“You’re right,” Sansa replied, and it was clear that she understood the reasoning on why they had to go to the Gates of the Moon. “We should leave later in the day, so mother won’t notice,” she paused as she took the dress from Jon’s hands.

  
Jon didn’t want to wait, but if they left now, Lysa might notice. Jon knew if their intentions were discovered by Lysa, they would never have a chance to be married. He had wasted so much time though, with thinking that they could never be a reality, Jon did not want to waste another moment. “Sansa,” he mumbled, before kissing her on the cheek. “I don’t want to wait another moment,” he sighed.

  
“Just a few hours Jon,” Sansa reluctantly replied. It was clear she was thinking about the details of his proposal more than he was, and although he was glad for it, Jon wanted nothing more to whisk her away. “It’ll give us time to prepare. You can raven Lord Royce so he can make the necessary arrangements if he agrees to help us, and I can fake ill so my mother doesn’t come looking for me,” Sansa said.

  
It was logical, but Jon had been logical for so long it had done neither of them any good. “Alright,” Jon agreed. Even if he had to steal Sansa like a wilding, she would be his wife by the next day. “But we are getting married Sansa, no matter what,” he said before crashing his lips against hers.

  
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Sansa beamed, before kissing him again.

  
Today, he was going to marry Sansa Arryn. A bastard boy that was not good enough for her, but Jon knew he would spend the rest of his days trying to be the best husband in the world to her. 

* * *

  
  
The moment the proposal came out of Jon’s mouth, Sansa assumed she was dreaming. Now though as she sat in her room waiting for Jon to arrive once again the knots of nerves forming in her stomach made her realized it was very much real. After Jon had left her room to send a raven to Lord Royce, Sansa had spent her morning hastily finishing a small embroidery piece of a direwolf that she had just started the day before. By pure luck, she had finished the new cloak that she had been working on for Jon a few days ago, and so she had decided to add the small dire wolf on the back of the cloak, thinking Jon could use it for their marriage ceremony. At least he would have a decent cloak to use. Sansa would have liked to make a beautiful wedding cloak for herself, however, she knew, she would have a thousand more beautiful dresses to wear in her lifetime. If Jon wanted to marry her, she would not waste away the opportunity, she would marry him today and they would finally be allowed some happiness together.

  
Sansa had just finish securing her hair into a simple braid tide off in an elegant silver ribbon when she heard Jon slip into her room. He was dressed slightly nicer than he was this morning, a fresh dark gray tunic laid underneath his black leather jerkin. His breeches were the same and he wore his old cloak that he brought with him from Winterfell. Yet, he looked as handsome as ever as he donned the brightest smile she had ever seen him wear.

  
Jon made his way across the room and brought her to his chest, kissing her ever so softly. “Are you ready?” Jon questioned as he softly trailed his hand down her cheek.

  
The answer was easy, she had been ready to marry Jon for years. “Of course, but I have something for you,” She said breaking away from his embrace and going to her bed where the newly finished cloak laid. “I started this a while ago, but, we will be needing it for the ceremony, and so it seems fitting I give it to you now,” Sansa stated as she offered him the new cloak.

  
Jon grinned as held the new cloak in his hands. His gray eyes beamed with appreciation, and he ever so carefully traced the dire wolf that she had placed on the nape of the neck. “I know this isn’t exactly the finest wedding in the world Sansa, but we will have nothing but a loving marriage Sansa,” he promised as he placed a kiss on her cheek. “I love you and I am sorry, for not telling you sooner.”

  
“Oh, Jon,” she murmured as she took his hand. “It does not matter, we have each other now.” Jon nodded. “Now, put your new cloak on, so we can leave,” Sansa instructed.

  
Jon did as he was told, while, Sansa grabbed one of her finer cloaks. It was not the intricate maidedn's cloak of her dream, but the pale gray cloak with hints of white and silver embroidery would be fitting for not only the ceremony but the trip down the mountain. Plus, it paired well with the demure, navy blue dress that Jon had pulled out earlier in the day for her to wear. They shared one more brief kiss after they were both securely in their cloaks, and Jon took her hand. Careful not to be seen, Jon led Sansa through the halls of the Eyrie to the small stable at the gate. No stable hands were present, which allowed for Jon, to take a horse without any questions. Jon carefully pulled her atop the horse in front of him, and slowly but surely they began the journey down the mountain.

  
The sun was slowly waning, but they had time their departure to ensure that they would not be traveling in the pitch dark of the night. As the horse carried them down the mountain, Sansa bubbly talked about their future. She wanted three little boys and a girl. Jon claimed not to care, but, Sansa knew he wanted a son of his own and girl that was wild as Arya and then another girl more like herself. Although the journey down the mountain was more or less a regular occurrence for many people, she could tell Jon was anxious about the narrow walkway that led to nothing but air. Luckily though time slipped away quickly and then they were at the Gates of the Moon, and she could sense the tension in Jon’s shoulders disappear once they were surrounded by a much safer scenery.

  
“Lady Arryn, Ser Jon,” Lord Royce stood outside the gates with a younger, round woman. “I was pleased to receive your raven,” he added.

  
Sansa was relieved. She was not sure if Lord Royce would help them. Her mother always kept her at arm's length from the Lords, most of the time she was only allowed to simply greet the Lords and bid them simply thank you’s. “I am relieved to hear so,” Sansa breathed out as Jon dismounted. Carefully, she took Jon’s hand and slid off the horse.

  
Lord Royce smiled. “I am always happy to help,” he paused and then looked at the young woman next to him. “This is my daughter, Myranda.”

  
“Lady Arryn, See Jon, I have a septon waiting in the sept waiting for you, but I am sure you two want to freshen up for a second,” she said.

  
Sansa felt the tinge of excitement rise her in her stomach. They all way down she had been a bit worried that perhaps they would not help them. Yet, it seemed that Lord Royce and his daughter were true and faithful bannerman. “Come inside, and we can begin as soon as you two are ready,” he said, before calling out for a stable boy to take the horse.

  
“I guess you are going to be my wife after all,” Jon whispered into her ear as they followed Lord Royce inside.

  
Once inside, everything became a world wind. Myranda Royce led to them a small chamber room where they could freshen up, while she went off to check on the sept and find a few more witnesses. Lord Royce excused himself as there was a raven from the Eyrie, and although that made both Jon and Sansa worried, he told them not too. The older Lord promised that he would he make sure that if Lady Lysa had figured out Sansa was gone, he would hold her off a for as long as possible. However, soon enough Sansa found herself waiting outside the sept, to walk down to Jon and saw her vows.

  
Slowly the doors opened to sept, and Sansa beamed as she saw Jon waiting for her at the altar. The sept of the Gates of the moon was rather large, but it was only filled with a Measter, Lord Royce and his daughter, and a few servants that she did not recognize. It was not the wedding that she had dreamed of, but Jon’s smile was the biggest smile that had ever graced his face, and Sansa could not imagine anything more perfect. Her pace up the aisle was quicker than it perhaps should be, but, Sansa grinned as Jon took her hand, and nodded at the Septon to begin.

  
“You may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection,” the septon instructed. Jon carefully untied the gray travel cloak Sansa had donned for the trek down to the Gates of the Moon, and replaced it with the very cloak she had made for him and placed it around her shoulders.

  
“My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul now, and forever,” The septon proclaimed after Sansa had been cloaked.

  
They were now facing each other holding each other hands, as a ribbon was tied around their hands. “Let it be known that Sansa of House of Arryn and Jon of House of Stark are of one heart, are of one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them apart,” the septon paused. “In the sight of the Seven, I hereby bind these two souls, binding them as one for eternity,” the septon then untied the ribbon.

  
Sansa could see Jon smiling at her and she couldn’t help but blush. Everything seemed unreal, but she had never been happier. In a few moments she was going to be a wife, and to the person, she loved with all her heart.

  
“Look upon each other and say the words,” The septon commanded.

  
Sansa silently worried that Jon would stumble through the vows, as he did not follow the Seven. Yet, he managed to list off the names of each god without any trouble.  
“I am his and he mine. From this day, until the end of my days,” Sansa said without any hesitation.

  
“I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,” Jon said loudly alongside her own vows. The next thing Sansa knew Jon was kissing her. She unsure if he said the last line of the ceremony, but she did not care. They were one, finally, and married. No one would be able to tear them apart, not even each other.

  
They were like a couple out of a song, running through the halls to find her chambers at the gates of the Moon. They barely even thanked those who had witnessed their wedding, before trying to escape for some alone time together. Once in their chambers, Jon laid her down on the bed ever so gently, but his mouth was demanding against hers. She relished in his affections, feeling as if she’s been starved her whole life. His tongue was pushing into her mouth ever so gently, as she gasped from feeling his hands on the back of her dress. It was by a mere miracle that she had a worn a simple dress with buttons on the back, instead of her usual complicated laces. The sound of buttons popping reaches her ears, and she knows she should be crossed, but she couldn't bring herself to care as movement allowed for her to reach for his buckles of his leather vest he donned. They broke away for a few seconds. Allowing for Jon to rip off his vest off and pull his shirt over his head, and for her to pull herself out of he dress, and leaving herself only in her slip.

  
The slip was thin, white, but it luckily covered her chest. Jon’s eyes though were staring at her body and she felt as if he could see everything, and yet she wasn’t scared. “Beautiful,” Jon said before he began placing hot open mouth kisses on her shift. He reached the juncture between her thighs, still covered by the shift and she felt his hands slipping up the shift to her belly.

  
He kissed her _there_ , Sansa had greatly enjoyed him kissing her there the last time he had done it, even though it only brought her pleasure, but now their beddings did have a higher purpose. Her septa had only told her of how a man put a baby in a woman, but she was sure Jon’s actions would not put a babe in her, as his tongue swirled around her folds. Her mouth let out a gasp, her hands found purchase in the sheets of her bed, as Jon found a spot that she never knew existed. Shots of pleasure were conversing through her body, her lungs searching for air that they desperately needed it. Bravely she raised up to rid herself of slip completely, her body soaked with sweat and the fabric only making her body hotter.

  
Jon hummed against her thighs as he pulled away. His eyes were darker then they had ever been before, the beautiful gray eyes were as obsidian as he glanced up at her. “How did I get so lucky,” each word was punctuated with hasty kiss up her body as they crashed once again against her lips. “The most beautiful women in the world is my wife,” he added as he parted from her lips so he could take a breath.

  
Perhaps, it was instinct taking over her mind as her hands started tugging at the knots that kept his pants together, as she hadn’t been told men and women were supposed to be completed naked when they laid together. Her septa had just said most men pulled their breaches down and lifted up their lady wife’s slip, but her septa was celibate. Sansa was now starting to realize that her Septa had no clue what laying with a man was like, for something primal was taking over her senses right now.  
Jon groaned as her hands yanked at the knots, most likely from her small delicate hands, putting pressure on his hardening member beneath the fabric. His hands soon took over and were pushing his pants down and off his legs. Sansa wasn’t sure what happened to his boots, and she didn’t care, his body, well, she had never seen one before. It was strange and mesmerizing at the same time; hot, red, and bold; and waiting to do more than just put a babe inside of her, she was sure, it was to do delightful things to her.

  
“Are you sure?” Jon murmured in her ear as she felt it on her thigh. Sansa didn’t respond, but simply pressed a firm kiss on his lips, and then, she was gasping.

  
Jon was saying anything, but he was completely still inside of her, his face was beautiful. Never had she seen him so relax and naturally happy. “Jon,” she found his names rolling off her lips after a few moments of him being still. She knew he had never had another woman, and silently she wondered if any of the boys had explained to him it was more than just putting his member inside of her. “You can move,” she whispered out.

  
Jon’s eyes locked with her and then she felt the slow and gentle moment of him going in and out of her ever so slightly. It wasn’t as pleasurable as when he had put his mouth on her, but there was a certain enjoyable feeling to it. Altogether everything felt as if she was incredibly tight, almost as she if she could barely fit him in all the way. The tightness slowly began to fade away, and slowly she felt a pressure of pleasure swirling inside of her. It was all too much, and then suddenly she felt filled up by Jon’s seed as she began coming down from her own high.

  
“I love you,” Jon said, loud and clear, despite both of them gasping for breath. Looking at Jon, Sansa realized she had never been this happy before. This moment was everything she had always wanted, just her and Jon. Although she wasn’t sure what the next days would bring, this moment would bring her the strength to get through the worse of days. They were wedded and bedded, and nothing would tear them apart anymore.  


* * *

They stayed in bed for a good two days, and Jon doesn’t ask how they’ve been so lucky to have time alone with each other. Servants kindly left them trays of food outside of their chamber’s doors, as most of the time, Jon was too preoccupied with his wife’s body to notice the knocks on the door. Never in his life had he felt so strongly about a person, but he would do anything for Sansa, even more so then he would before. She was his. Truly, his, and it was no longer just his duty to protect her, but to love her. If Jon had it his way, they would never leave the chamber they currently resided in. However, Lord Royce had been holding off Lysa for two days, and she began calling bannermen to the Gates of the Moon, as Lord Royce would not tell her where Sansa was. The outside world needed their attention and so their happiness though would have to extend outside of the chamber they had residing in.

  
“Do we have to get up?” Sansa murmured as he carefully traced his fingers down her exposed back. They were tangled up in the furs, but, Lord Royce had informed them last night that there was a gathering of lords waiting to be addressed in the morning. The morning had come, and it seemed that they would have to rejoin the normal world.

  
“I rather go to them, then have people barging in here while you are undressed,” Jon answered, as he sat up he placed a kiss on her bare shoulder. “I rather the like being the only man who gets to see you like this,” he added.

  
Sansa blushed, and Jon couldn’t help but grin. He could get used to being a husband. Being a husband was something he never thought he would be, but, the way he had managed to keep Sansa smiling made him feel like he was doing a good job. Slowly he pulled himself out of the bed and put on some fresh breeches and tunic that the maid had left form him outside the door. Sansa herself was donning only a shift as she splashed her face with some water. He grabbed the dress that laid discarded on the chair and walked over to help her in it. Although he was much better undoing Sansa’s dress then seeking her in it, he did enjoy the intimacy of it. Once they returned to the Eyrie she would go back to having maids helping her dress, and then, their room would be filled with people coming in and out.

  
“Thank you,” Sansa smiled once the navy blue dress she wore to Gates of the Moon was on her securely. “Go put your jerkin on, while I fix my hair,” she instructed before placing a kiss on his lips.

  
“I think it’s fine how it is,” he murmured against her lips. Jon loved her hair when it was down and in its natural waves. He knew she didn’t care for it in her face, but he liked being able to run his fingers through it without worrying of messing up her braids and twists.

  
Sansa just shook her head and went to the vanity. He slowly dressed in his jerkin and slipped on his boots, watching Sansa as she twisted half of her hair up and away from her face. Most of it was still down, which he was glad for. “What are you looking at?” Sansa questioned as she turned around.  
“My beautiful wife,” Jon answered without any hesitation.

  
Sansa smiled and he went and took her hand. “I don’t know what is going to happen,” he paused. “I am not going to let them tear us apart Sansa, you are my wife now.”  
Her blue eyes sparkled with pride. “I am going to hold you to that Jon,” she said.

  
With a heavy fleeing in his stomach, he led them out of the chamber. He wasn’t looking forward to what was coming, but Jon knew he would stand by the vows he made to Sansa. The only thing that could cause him to break their marriage vows would be death itself. 

* * *

“What is the meaning of this?” Lysa Arryn demanded as Sansa and Jon entered the great room of the Gates of the Moon. Beside Sansa’s was a few other high ranking lords of the Vale and Lord Royce. From the brief conversation, Sansa and Jon had with Lord Royce the night before, Lady Arryn had called bannermen to the Gates of the Moon claiming that Sansa was being held against her will as Lord Royce would not tell her what she and Jon were doing in his residence.

  
“What do you mean Mother?” Sansa slowly asked as she and Jon stood before her. Jon kept his hand steadied in hers, and Sansa had never felt stronger.

  
“Did this bastard steal you away and take you against your will, and did Lord Royce help him?” Lysa questioned. The other lords exchanged glances with each other, and Sansa could tell they were wondering what was going on.

  
“No,” Sansa answered. “Jon and I both came freely to the Gates of the Moon to wed, knowing you would never let us do so in the Eyrie,” Sansa stated. The Lords seemed slightly shocked, but Lord Royce was simply smirking over at the side.

  
“You married this bastard?” Her mother asked, perfectly mad. She had only seen her mother so crazed once before, and that was she tried to strangle her in King’s Landing.

  
“Yes, we love each other,” Sansa replied as she felt Jon’s grasp on her hand tightened.

  
“Love?” Lysa Arynn threw her cape back from her shoulders, before breaching the few steps that separate them. She raised her hand and Sansa was sure she was going to strike, but she saw Jon’s hand stop the blow.

  
“Who are you, to raise a hand to my wife and Lady of the Vale?” Jon seethed, gently shoving her back. Jon had never cared for her mother, but, in that moment, Sansa knew that Jon would have no reservations about cutting her down with his sword if she tried something again.

  
Lysa scoffed. “She is Lady of the Vale, but I am regent. My daughter may be foolish and not see the only reason you married her was in hopes I would send the Knights of the Vale to your brother, but I am not going to do so.”

  
The words were full of spite, and Sansa wished she could be sad. She wished she had expected her mother to be happy for her, but that would mean that she had to have a mother that loved her. “Jon did not marry me for the Vale, Mother.”

  
Lysa went to say something, but luckily Master Darion of the Eyrie stepped up to say something. “Lady Lysa Aryn upon your daughter’s marriage your regency ended,” he proclaimed looking at the older Lady Arryn. The room was silent for a few moments, and everyone’s eyes began shifting to the aging megastar who had served Lord Jon Arryn dutifully. “When Jon Arryn and I wrote his will, the terms of Lysa Aryn’s regency where that she would remain, regent until Lady Sansa Arryn was of twenty years of age or wedded.”

  
Lysa frowned, and Sansa suddenly felt a weight being lifted off her shoulders. Her mother was no longer regent, she was free and her birthright was finally fully hers. “I am Lady of the Vale,” she breathed out and looked at Jon, who was beaming. Then suddenly it hit her if she was truly Lady of Vale, that meant Jon was also Lord of the Vale.

  
“With a bastard as a husband, do you think these men will serve you?” Lisa angrily questioned.

  
“Yes, we will,” Lord Royce answered for himself and the other lords as they nodded in agreement. “Lady Sansa has made a fine choice in a husband, and we will serve him just as we serve her,” he added.

  
The color in Lysa’s face was draining, and Sansa felt stronger than she ever had in her life. Suddenly it was clear, her mother had no power. She was a widow of a Lord Paramount, and her husband’s daughter and heir had come to age and was married. Sansa realized she was Lady of the Vale, and Jon was Lord of Vale, and her mother had no right to their power.

  
Sansa looked at her mother, and with every ounce of pride she had in her the words slipped out of her mouth, “Jon Snow is my husband and Lord of the Vale,” she paused. Slowly, Sansa took a step closer to her mother and leaned closed to her face. “Now, you are **_nothing_**.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for the support for this story it means the world! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter and thanks so much for reading! I hoped it made you all happy :)


	7. Chapter 7

* * *

 

Chapter Seven

The hours after the announcement of their marriage, turn into debates about trivial matters, that left Jon wanting to do nothing more than take up a sword and hack away at something. A name. All the lords were worried that Sansa would mistakenly be called Lady Snow if he were to be referred to as Lord Snow, but Jon found their worries unwarranted. The simple fact that he was now a Lord, was odd enough to him. However, a group of Lords suggested that he take up the name Arryn, that caused another group to argue that he would become confused with the late Jon Arryn if he did so. Although he respected Sansa and her family’s name, the only name he would ever want that wasn't Snow, would be the name of his father, Stark. For what seems like hours, he and Sansa are sitting at a table with the few Lords that were there, as other lords either did not answer the ravens sent out by Lady Lysa or still were on the road to the Gates of the Moon. There are perhaps twelve or so Lords, and they’ve been bickering about his name ever since they sent Lady Lysa to her chambers in a fit after Sansa had all but stripped her of her the title Lady.

  
“Well, if he’s a Snow what about the children?” One Lord that Jon does not know the name of yelled as he hit his hands on the table they were all seated at.

  
“Technically, I think they would be Snows,” Claimed another Lord.

  
“There mother would be Lady of the Vale, they should be Arryns,” quipped another Lord.

  
“So, our Lord should take the name Arryn it would make things perfectly clear then,” the Lord who had been banging his hands on the table stated.

  
“Bloody hell,” Jon muttered all too loudly, causing the lords to turn their heads. Sansa is staring at him as well, straight back, and prim and proper as always. He loves his wife, but he knew Sansa better than anyone, she did not want to test the Lords yet, but he could care less. “My name is Jon Snow, call me Lord, call me Ser, call me whatever you want, this conversation is pointless, compared to the conversation we should be having.”

  
The room went silent. War was on the horizon. The Lannisters were fighting his kin, and the Stormlands were already in a mess. Although Lady Lysa had accused him of marrying Sansa for her men, she was wrong, he would not take Sansa’s men from her. However, he would not allow his wife’s lands to become ransacked by the war due to ill preparations and bickering lords. If Sansa and her bannermen did not want to enter the war, he would be fine with it, he would do his duty as a husband and make sure his wife would be safe through the conflict before he left for his brother's camp.

  
“My husband is right,” Sansa said as she stood. Even though she was dressed in the plain, navy dress that she wore as they rode down to the Gates of the Moon a few days ago, Sansa looked more regal than ever. The moment the regency was lifted, it seemed she came to be the woman he always knew she was. “My cousin and my husband’s brother Robb has called his bannermen. My Uncle and now good-father Lord Stark, who was fostered here under my own father, is unjustly imprisoned by the Lannisters in King’s Landing, we must send aid to Robb and his cause,” she stated, firmly, as if it was not up for debate.

  
The Lords chattered and whispered to one another for a few moments. “The Lannisters have not done anything to us,” Ser Harry stated.

  
Jon frowned. See Harry had clearly one goal in life and that was to become Lord of the Vale, and Jon knew, he had just made that goal almost but not completely impossible. For now, Harry was still in line to inherit the Vale if something were to happen to Sansa, but the moment Sansa had a child, which was very much a possibility, Harry's hopes would have no hope of ever coming to fruition. However, Ser Harry would use every bit of influence he had over the lords to make Jon’s life harder for taking away the one thing that he had wanted.

  
“Although I do not always see eye to eye to her, my mother did claim the Lannisters had something to do with my father’s death,” Sansa argued back.

  
The fact sat ill with Jon, he did not want the knights of the Vale going to war based on a statement made by Lysa Arryn. “I do not wish just to fight for my father’s safe return,” Jon found himself staying. “If we simply let the Lannisters take and imprison another Lord without a fair and proper trial, who says that they will not march here one day and take my wife, your Liege Lord?”

  
No matter how loyal he was to his family, the Starks, he would never allow any harm fall onto Sansa. The Lannisters were power hungry, had been even before the rebellion, and now with Tywin Lannister’s grandson on the throne, they thought they were untouchable. Jon did not trust them, and he would not allow them to even think about harming his wife. Jon would have the Vale strike first.

  
“I am calling my remaining bannermen,” Sansa said, as she stood before the Lords and Ladies in attendance. “The Vale will go to war, and the Lannisters will regret their actions,” she stated.

  
Jon has never been more proud of Sansa, but as he sees the looks of the Lords is attendance they all seem taken back. It seemed that many of them expected him to to be the one dictating things, however, Sansa was fully capable of being a leader. His wife was the strongest woman of all Westeros, and it was time the rest of the world began to take notice. If not, Jon would just be happy that he was lucky bastard that got to call himself her husband.

* * *

Their joy does not last long, Sansa knew the moment that Jon and her married, he would be gone for war. However, Sansa had called for all her banners to arrive at the Gates of the Moon, a week ago. Now, it was the first night all the men were at the keep. The first night had been declared a makeshift wedding feast, and Sansa could feel the excitement in the air for war that was radiating off the bannermen as she looked down at them from the high table. News of the Lannister and Stark armies battling it out in the Rivverlands had reached their ears, and with the ascension of Jon as Lord of the Vale, had the young knights and squires itching for glory to be earned on the battlefield. She tried to laugh off her worries as she watched young maidens spin around with their chosen boys. Silently, Sansa wondered if any of those young boys will come back. Even more silently, she wondered if her husband who sat next to her at the high table now, their wolves curled around their feet, would come back to her the same man.

  
“It feels odd,” Jon whispered into her ear with a grin on his face. He had his fair share of fine Dornish wine, and so had she. However, it wasn’t the wine, that was making her feel free. It was the feeling of having the love of her life as her husband and partner next to her that made her feel free.

  
“What feels odd?” Sansa asked.

  
“Sitting at the high table,” Jon replied. His statement was true, Catelyn Stark had barely let him eat with the family at simple meals much less a feast. It was part of the reason, Jon was who he was. The man next to her was not a man that would abuse the power that their marriage gave him, but instead, Jon had given her the freedom and power she had always been raised to believe she would have. Ned Stark had raised her to believe that her words would be law in her realm, but the short time as her mother being regent Sansa had realized that was not case. In many people’s eyes, she would always be a simple girl, but she was a woman, a wedded woman who held the loyalty of thousands of men for her husband. Sansa knew the limitations of her power, despite it being her own right, she knew that in the eyes of men it was her husband’s by marriage.

  
“It’s your table now, Jon,” Sansa stated as she glanced at him. The title may be hers by blood, but it will always be his by marriage. The Lords respected him in a different way then they respected her. It was obvious that he saw him as a man that would lead them into battle. While she was the woman that they would plead for help regarding their keeps and present their cases of misgivings between each other. It did not bother Sansa in the slightest. Jon made of up for her shortcomings as a leader, as she had no desire to go over battle plans or swing swords. She was not Arya and nor did she ever want to be. Sansa was more than happy that her husband seemed not to mind picking up the slack from her.

  
Jon’s lips pressed into a firm line. “No,” Jon takes her hand and pressed a firm kiss to it. “I am your husband and your partner, I do only what you cannot or what you’ve asked from me. The Vale is yours and I will always make sure that it remains in your hands,” he swore to her.

  
“You are mine, and I am yours. So the Vale will be ours, Jon.” Once not too long ago, Jon had been bound to go the Wall, but, she had ways known Jon Snow was meant to be so much more than a man of the Night's Watch. He would be a great man, people would tell stories of Lord Jon Snow of the Vale. They would recite how much he loved his lady wife and how he cut down anyone who did their family wrong.

  
Jon slowly captured her lips. “I don’t know much about sitting at the high table, so will my good wife please inform me when its a proper time for us to go to bed,” Jon huskily whispered into her ear after pulling away.

  
Going to bed, no longer implied sleep, and she couldn’t help but blush at what Jon was really referring too. Their loving making was better than anything she had imagined. “I don’t think they will miss us,” Sansa blushed madly.

  
Jon grinned and tugged her up from her seat as she stood. There were a few whistles and shouts of glee as they left the dais and the Great Hall, as their exit was not missed, but cheered on. Despite both of their worries, the other lords had seemed to take to their marriage. Most of them seemed pleased with the idea that there would be more heirs, more Arryns, as it had been agreed any future children would not take the name Snow. It seemed her mother had been the only one that had been upset about the marriage. Lisa had demanded the bed sheets from the bed they had consummated their marriage on to be displayed to her, to prove that their marriage was truly valid, and then she was confined to he room where she had been sense. On the other hand, now it seemed the people of the Vale were eager for a babe. Sansa wasn’t so sure if she was ready for a babe, but she did enjoy trying to make one that was for sure.

 

* * *

 

  
Another feast was held a few days after long debates of battles strategies and organization, and Sansa was relieved when it came to dine. Most of the day she had spent entertaining the visiting Ladies, as she left Jon to argue with the men about where and when they should depart to join Robb’s cause. Apparently, a large amount of men would be staying back to ensure that the Vale would not be invaded. To her surprise, Jon had managed to ensure that it was Ser Harry and his house’s men that would be staying on to guard the Vale. Sansa knew that Jon did not care for Ser Harry, and would not trust him on the battlefield beside him. They would be leaving in a few days, as there were still preparations needed to be made for the long march to the Riverlands. Word of Riverrun being taken back by Northern forces had made its way to the Vale and more shockingly the capture of Jamie Lannister. It seemed that her cousin was proving to be a good warrior, but Sansa knew that the war could easily take a turn for the worse.

  
“My Lord! My Lady!” Maester Diron exclaimed as he rushed up the dais. He had a message in his hand, and Sansa knew it could not be good news. “News from the King Landing.”

  
Jon put his cup of wine down and took the message from Diron.“Thank you, Darion,” Jon replied as he unscroll the script. Sansa eyes the megastar and from his expression and Jon’s soon scowling face, she knew no good news came from the capital.

  
No words were spoken, and Sansa saw the rare smile on Jon’s lips fade away as he stood. Ghost at her feet jerked up, ears alert to his master’s change in mood. Jon strode out of the room with a face of clear anger display, which caused everyone to still and stare at him, and then her. “Darion, what did the message say?” Sansa asked.  
She stood and in that moment she knew every Lord of the Vale’s eyes are on her, waiting for her reaction. “Lord Stark has been beheaded for treason, My Lady.”

  
Happiness was fleeting, but Sansa never realized her happiness would end with her dear Uncle’s death. Robb had been at war for a few months now, and the time for carefully planning on when the Vale’s forces will leave and who will stay back as past. The Lannisters had killed her Uncle, and they would pay for their actions. “Diron, tell the smiths to speed up preparation for the weapons, and go ahead and tell the servants to finish curing the meat,” she ordered. War had come to their doorstep, and although she did not want her husband to leave, he needed to get justice for his father’s death.

  
After Dirion had been left with instructions, Sansa wasted no time chasing after Jon. Luckily, Jon had not run off to the stables and hitched a horse to go to King’s Landing, like Sansa figured he would in rage. Instead, he went to their chambers. As she walked in, he was tugging throwing his fine tunic of his back, his well-worn leathers and small chest plate laid out on the chair next to him, his sword laid unsheathed on the bed.  
“Jon,” Sansa breathed out as he stopped his movements.

  
He turned to face her, bare chest, with anger and sadness written on his face. “They killed him,” Jon struggled to say the words. “That disgusting, prick, killed my father,” his chest rose up and down and in all her life, she hadn't ever seen Jon so broken.

  
It hurt her. “I know,” She said as she walked closer to him. Slowly she placed her hand over his heart, and she could feel it beating harder than normal. “He may be gone, but he will always be your father,” Sansa stated looking up to meet his eyes.

  
Suddenly, Jon’s rough hands were tugging at the back of her dress. His lips had latched onto her neck, and Sansa knew he needed this. No words would be able to make him feel whole, feel alive, after the news of his father’s death. In his grief though, she could bring him some comfort with her soft touches and kisses. The silk ties of her dress were simply torn away, and she pulled her arms out of the sleeves as her husband roughly tugged the dress down her hips until was all the way off of her. She led them to the bed, and began jerking his laces of his breeches undone, as Jon possessively took one of her breast in his mouth. His actions caught her by surprise and Sansa let out a gasped as his mouth sucking eagerly on her breast. Her husband's hands all but ripped her smallclothes apart, before his fingers began plunging inside of her without remorse. Her slip was still on her, but his breaches were free and undone now. Jon pushed them down just enough, and soon enough he was inside of her. His movements were rough but pleasurable, and she could tell he was struggling with his emotions. Everything ended a bit too soon, as both of their peaks had come blindly fast.

  
“I have to leave as soon as possible,” Jon murmured as he rolled off of her.

  
Sansa’s heart stilled, even though she knew it was long overdue. The fact they had a few weeks together after they were wed was more than she had thought would be allowed. Yet, she had gotten used to laying next to Jon every morning and night. It would be odd, readjusting to lonely, cold beds in addition to the constant worrying that would begin the moment he rode away to war.

  
“I left instructions for everything to be sped up,” Sansa paused as she curled into his side, her head resting against his chest. “You should be able to leave in a day or two,” she admitted. The truth was the men could leave as early in the morning, the majority of the preparations had been made. The smiths were simply making extra weapons right now, and women were gathering cloth to make extra shirts and blankets for the colder months ahead for the men. In all honesty, they were waiting for word from Robb’s camp on where to meet.

  
“I’ll come back to you,” Jon murmured against her hair. “I’ll always come back to you,” added with more conviction.

  
“I know you will,” Sansa quietly whispered into his chest. Jon would come back to here, but as she let his arms wrap around her, she knew it would not be an easy road. They had taken so long to get together it would most likely take just as long that the world would bring them back together once more. Growing up, she had heard stories of how Lord Stark had left Lady Catelyn right after they wed, and their marriage had been strong from it. Sansa only hoped that her marriage would not falter from their time apart. After all, distance made the heart grow fonder.

* * *

 

There was not a cloud in the sky as Jon watch the men saddled their horses and prepare the carts with supplies. It was a beautiful day, and the young men seemed eager to depart for war. Jon himself was not as eager. The thought of leaving Sansa was weighing heavily on him, but, Jon knew that he needed to go help his brother. The sooner that he let the sooner left the quicker he would be able to return home, in theory. This place though, it may not be his home like Winterfell, but the Vale was the place where his love was. His wife would stay here in the safety of the mountains until he returned. While most men’s minds were filled with images of what was to come on the battlefield, Jon’s mind was filled with images of the future after he returned from war. All Jon could think of was him and Sansa snuggled up in bed and being woken up by the sounds of little feet running stone floors before children with round chubby faces smiled up at him and his wife before climbing into bed with them. Sansa was his family now. He rode away from Winterfell with her, and although his blood was calling him back to perform his duties as a son, Jon would return to his wife.  
Jon smiled as he saw Sansa walked towards him. She was dressed as beautifully as ever, in a white dress with long sleeves and pale blue cloak wrapped around her shoulders Sansa was nothing short then a vision. His eyes tried to engraved her image in his mind, as he wanted to remember every part of her. Once she stood before him, all Jon could do was carefully thread his fingers through her lose red hair, and she beamed at him. They had said their goodbyes the night before, or this morning, Jon wasn’t sure if either of them slept. It had been three days since news of his father’s death had reached them, and just this morning news of Robb being named King in the North had come. Life was changing faster than ever, but, Jon simply wanted to take this moment in.

  
“I have something for you,” Sansa finally spoke as Jon pulled his fingers out her hair. She motioned for a young squire to come towards her, and carefully Sansa took a sheath sword out of the squire’s hand with a smile as a thank you.

  
“The Lord Commander gave it to my father a few years ago, as a sign of thanks for my father always sending men to the Wall,” she paused as she handed him the sword. Although it was sheathed, Jon’s eyes were memorized by the white wolf pommel with striking red eyes, Ghost, he thought. “I knew you need a good sword, so I decided it was fitting for you to have,” she added as he slowly pulled it out of the sheath.

  
“Valyrian steel,” Jon gasped as he looked at the fine metal sword in his hand. Valyarian steel was rare, and the only sword he had ever seen made of it was his own father’s sword. No telling what had happened to Ice, but, it was almost having a small remainder of his father in his hand. A northern man's sword made of Valyrian steel was almost symbolic of where he had come from.

  
“It’ll keep you safe,” Sansa said, and Jon could tell she was trying to hold back tears in her eyes. “I love you, Jon, and you have to promise me that you won’t leave me for good,” she struggled with the words.

  
Jon sheathed the sword, before wrapping his arms around her. It was harder in his leather and with chest plate on to do so, but he held her small body close to her for one last time. “I am going to come back, even if it means killing every Lannister who stands in the way of me and you, I will come back to you. Love,” he promised. Whatever it took, if it meant storming King’s Landing, if it meant taking every ounce of gold the Lannister had for ransom, Jon would do it if it meant coming back to her.

Jon would come back to her, his heart would not allow anything different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is not my best chapter and it's short, so I am sorry :(  
> However, thanks for the wonderful feedback and support from the previous chapters! It means the world. I will say I am already half done with the next chapter and its much better and much more exciting!


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

Chapter Eight

 

The small city of gray tents reached his eyes and Jon could see his family’s sigil, his brother’s sigil, Jon corrected in his mind, flying high above the tent. The direwolf is no longer truly his, he is Lord Snow of the Vale of Arryn now, the husband of the Last Arryn. His children shall take her name, and learn her words as their own. The Lords of the Vale had accepted him as Sansa’s husband, and more importantly, they accepted him and his wife as co-rulers. Jon had given up the title of regent, making Sansa the Lady of the Vale in her own right, and thus earning the respect of any Lord that had been wary that he had simply married Sansa for power. He would have married Sansa even she was poor man’s daughter, but, his wife was not, and because of who she was, Jon was able to bring thousands of men to his brother’s cause. Men who didn’t seem as a bastard but their true and just Lord, something he never thought possible of attaining.

  
“Halt the men,” Jon ordered to Ser Leon Royce, son of Lord Royce, who had taken on the role of his right-hand man in the march to Riverlands. Faintly, he could make out a few figures at the edge of the camp, the auburn hair of his brother and his mother’s even brighter red hair, identifiable to him far away.

  
Once the men were halted, Jon lifted himself off his horse and onto the wet early morning grass of the Riverlands. They had ridden through the night knowing they were close to the camp. They had been riding for a little less than a month, and Jon was unsure if his brother even knew the Knights of the Vale were on the way. Ravens had been sent to Robb when Jon had called the banners, but with a moving army camp, it was always a risk the raven would not make it.

  
“I’ll treat with my brother,” Jon said as Lord Royce was joined by Lord Hersy, the youngest son of the Lord of the same name. The Hersys were a small family with a small keep, however, they were known for training men well in fighting and Jon had decided to keep him close as well. “Tell the men to rest, but not to get too comfortable, we may be on the move soon,” he added.  
The two lords nodded before turning and beginning to call out orders to other men. Jon took a deep breathe as he looked at the men on top of horses, dressed in fine silver amour. The Knights of the Vale were some of the best Westeros, carefully trained and held to the highest code of honor. Although he had misconceptions about them at first, he felt proud to be someone they listened to. As he looked down the hill to where his brother awaited, his mother most likely at his side, the thoughts of being nothing more than a bastard swelled up inside, but suddenly Sansa’s voiced was there.

  
“You are Lord of the Vale, no lesser than me or my father, you are a great man,” words Sansa gave to him days after they were married gave him the strength to slowly descend down, only for the dark cloth figure that was becoming easier to make out as Robb, rushing toward him.

  
“Brother,” Robb exclaimed with a grin of disbelief on his face.

  
“Robb,” He breathed as he felt his brother’s strong arms around him. There was one person in the whole world he was more loyal to than his own wife, and that was his brother that was only a few moons older than him. Robb had always been his best friend, they had grown up side by side, and now his brother was King.

  
“I see the news is true,” Robb breathed out as he pulled away. “My brother is Lord of the Vale now, should I call you Lord Arryn now?”

  
“Snow,” Jon corrected with a small smile. “Same name I had the day I was born and the same name I’ll have when I die, as King you should become better at remembering names, Robb.”

  
The last time they had talked in person, they were just barely boys of Winterfell. Now, barely a year later, they had become men. “Jon?!” Lady Catelyn gasped as she and Lord Umber approached, finally breaking the few moments of reunion he and his brother shared. “You brought the Knights of the Vale, does that mean-

  
“I am Sansa’s husband and Lord of the Vale of Arryn, my knights are my brother’s and King’s for as long as he may need them,” Jon stated, he didn’t know how Lady Stark viewed him now. Most of his life she had hated him, but surely, she couldn’t hate the bastard brother who now had his own keep and men and was never even a threat to her own son.

  
“The men were growing weary of the Knights, your grace,” Lord Umber spoke up. “They didn’t know if they were friendly are not, but now that they are, should we send men to help make camps?” The loyal lord spoke.

  
Robb nodded, “Make sure the men treat the knights kindly and as our own, their Lord is a Stark and the Vale is apart of the Northern kingdom now.”

  
Lord Umber nodded and sure enough a small group of men came rushing forward and off to the Vale side. His men would be cared for and that Jon was glad for, they didn’t have to join in this war. Lord Stark was not their Lord and was only Sansa’s uncle, but he was Jon’s father and loyalty was something the people Vale firmly believed in.

  
“Come, brother, I believe we have a lot of talking to do,” Robb threw his arm around his shoulders. The world had changed all around them lately, but it seemed that one thing hadn’t changed, the man next to him was still his brother. Robb may have a crown to win, and Jon may have his own people to look after all, but deep down, Jon knew they were still just little boys who grew up practicing with blunted swords on the grounds of Winterfell and both of them were scared of what to come.

* * *

Days without Jon were long and routine. Each morning, Sansa rose in the Lord’s Chambers in the Eyrie and broke her fast. She wrote and read important letters in the morning, and once a week she held court to hear problems of the common folk, as most lords were gone to war now. In the afternoons, she would pray in the Godswood for her husband and their family. In the evenings, she would often pour over any new ravens hoping for news of men and battle. The happiest of days where when she received a raven from her own husband. Jon was never one for long, drawn out letters, he was more of a man of action, but Sansa held each letter close to her heart, knowing that Jon simply touched it brought her comfort. Today though, as her eyes flickered upon, she feels as if she is on see. Her room is not steady and she can barely sit up from the dizziness that plagues her. 

“Mya,” she called out for the servant that had become her head lady’s maid. “Mya,” Sansa called out a little louder, not knowing if she had risen too early for trusted confident to be busying herself in her chambers doing odd chores.

  
Suddenly, the dark-haired, young woman was running into her bedchamber. Sansa could barely make out her maid as her vision was blurry. “My Lady!” She exclaimed as she rushed to her bedside and carefully helped laid Sansa back against the pillows. Mya’s hand was pressed against Sansa’s cheek. “You are burning up, I’ll get the Measter immediately,” she stated before running back out of the room.

  
Sansa knew she was sick, but her mind was swirling with things that she needed to do that day. The news that Jon had arrived at Robb’s camp had come and she needs to see that more medical provision was sent to the Riverlands. Also, she needed to speak Ser Harry about the hill tribes, as apparently one of the rides had ridden into battle with the Lannisters. However, as she stared at the canopy above her bed, she felt her stomach lurching. Luckily there was a pot next to her bed, and Sansa found herself clutching onto it as she vomited up the contents of her stomach.

  
“Lady Arryn,” the warm voice of Meastar Dillion reached her ears and Sansa turned her head. Despite how everything appeared a little fuzzy, she could make out the familiar face of the Meastar and Mya. He was actually the twin brother of Master Dirion who resided at the Gates of the Moon. Sansa cared for both megastars greatly as they were arm and kind just like Master Luwin at Winterfell. They served loyally and Meastar Dillion had become her right hand these weeks at the Eyrie without Jon.

  
“I am going to do a few examinations first,” the megastar instructed. Mya carefully pulled back the thick covers, and she could feel the hands of the megastar around her throat checking for her any swelling. Then his hands still above her heart, and Sansa knew he was checking the pace of heart. “When was her last cycle?” the megastar asked as his hands carefully pressed on her stomach through her thin shift.

  
Mya looked at Sansa then at the Meastar. “I don’t know, she has not had one since I’ve been in her service.” Once Sansa had arrived back in the Eyrie she had chosen her own maids, as her old ones had been chosen by her mother. Mya was a kind girl who seemed to mind her own business, and so Sansa had decided that she would be the one that would be her head lady’s maid.  
“I haven’t had a moons blood since Jon left,” Sansa managed to answer after some thought. Mya had been with her for a growing close to two months, and then Sansa had spent almost a month with Jon at the Gates of the Moon as he prepared to leave for war.

  
Master Dillion smiled. “I believe My Lady that you are with child, however, this fever concerns me so I feel its best you stay in bed today and I’ll give you some herbs that are safe for the child,” The meatier explained.

  
Sansa suddenly felt her world still. She was going to be a mother and Jon was going to be a father. When he came home, they would have a little one to raise together. It had always been a possibility, and maybe each one of them had secretly hoped for a babe in their few days together before Jon went to war, however, Sansa had never thought they would get this lucky. “Of course, will you send word that court will be postponed until the next week?”

  
“Of course My Lady, but I encourage you to wait to tell anyone about your news. I fear this fever could do harm a child this early on,” The meastar warned.

  
Sansa's hand covered her still flat stomach. All she wanted was this baby to be healthy, but it seemed an easy pregnancy would not bee n her future. After all, her own family did not have the best fertility. She was the only living child of her own parent’s marriage, and her father had two wives before her own mother who had all lost their own children. The terrible feeling of dread filled her stomach, if she lost this baby Sansa did not know what she would do, she needed it more than anything. This child was a symbol of her love to Jon, and more importantly, it would protect her if something happened to Jon during the war. She did not care what it took, this child would come into the world safe and healthy.

* * *

The smell of dried blood reached Jon’s nose as he groaned. The last thing he remembered was being surrounded by at least four men, and then now as he looked around his surroundings, it was clear the battle was over as he was now in his brother’s tent. The familiar dire wolf sigil hung on the wall opposite of him, and it brought him comfort despite the pain that was taking over his body. Slowly, he sat up and groaned as he looked down at his bandaged stomach. Sansa would surely not be happy if a raven was sent to the Eyrie informing her that he had been injured. Hopefully, Robb hadn’t done that. His wife didn’t need to know every time he got a little roughed up, which was a rare occasion.

  
“Brother, you gave us quite the scare,” Robb grinned as he walked into the tent, the healer, Talisa behind him. The woman was nice, but Jon knew that many of the men did not care for her. Neither did Lady Stark because it was clear that Robb had eyes for the healer. Robb was betrothed to a Frey girl, and Jon had a feeling that his brother would not be able to resist the healer next to him. In a way, Robb was like Sansa, believing that marriage should be reserved for love matches, despite the fact that Robb's marriage would be a strategic one.

  
“What exactly happened?” Jon questioned as Robb stood at the edge of the cot, as Talisa knelt beside Jon to examine the bandages.

  
“You decided to play hero and take out four men. One of them got a good slice on you, but Grey and Ghost took care of him, while some poor lads dragged you off the field since the battle was winding down,” Robb explained.

  
Jon grimaced as Talisa’s hands unwrapped the bandages. “Sorry, but these need to be changed.”

  
As Talisa unwrapped his bandaged, Jon knew that his wife would not be happy when she saw the scar. His enemy had sure gotten a good slice out of him, and he had a large bloody gash on the side of his stomach. “Did we at least win?” Jon questioned.

  
Robb smirked. “Yes,” He answered.

  
The Lannisters had underestimated them. The Northern forces themselves were intimidating but paired with the Riverlands and Vale men, they had almost half of Westeros on their side. Plus, if Theon, who just left to Iron Islands, was successful in gaining aid from his father they would be a force by sea and not just land.

  
“Here,” Robb handed him a raven as Talisa began wrapping a fresh bandage around his waist. “It’s from Sansa,” he added before he walked to his table and pour himself a cup of wine.

  
Jon pulled the letter apart effectively breaking the seal. “Did you rattle on me to my wife already Stark?”

  
“No, I will soon enough though,” Robb chuckled as he took a sip of the wine.

  
Talisa simply smiled at Jon, before telling him that she would come back to the tent to change the bandages again later on in the evening. Jon tried to not to notice that his brother stared the at the foreign woman as she walked out of the tent, but Jon was not blind. Back in Winterfell, Robb once called him out because Jon his eyes always lingered on Sansa. However, Jon did not feel like repaying the favor, and instead dived into the letter that was from his beautiful wife.

  
The letter contained Sansa’s perfect script. Long letters with perfect curls on every single letter and the spacing was so perfect it was as if she measured the distance between words each time. Sansa was a much better writer than himself both in legibility and wording. Plus, she had the advantage of her news not surrounding battles. Jon always feared if he told her every single detail of his and Robb’s actions on the battlefield that she would never be able to sleep due to her fear. This letter started out much more joyous than any of her other letters, and a few lines in, he found himself discovering the greatest news of all. _I am with child, Jon!_ Never in his life, did Jon think that so much joy could come from one sentence, but suddenly the little children he had dreamed of when he rode out of the Vale were going to be a reality, or at least one.

  
“What are you smiling about?” Robb questioned as looked over from the lounger he was now resting on.

  
“Sansa’s with child,” Jon breathed out as he looked at his brother. Robb’s face brighten up a huge smile was on his face, and stood and quickly began pouring a cup of his strongest meade.

  
“I can’t believe it!” Robb exclaimed as he handed him a cup of the meade. “I am going to be an Uncle, you are going to be a father,” Robb said as he took a swig of his own wine. “Sansa is thrilled, I assuming?”

  
Jon hadn’t finished the letter, but, his eyes quickly skimmed the letter. Sansa said she was three moons gone but was terribly sick.The letter was hopeful though, as she had left him with a list of names to approve of. The first name listed was Eddard. His father would have loved to see the day that he become a father, and it seemed fitting that he name a child after his own father.  
“My wife probably already has a nursery ready and enough outfits for the babe’s first three years,” Jon answered.

  
Robb sat at the foot of the cot that Jon was lying on. “Who would have thought, that you be the first one to be a father out of the two of us, and married?” Robb paused and cocked his head. “You were the brother that wanted to go to the Wall.”

Jon just shook his head. “I am glad I didn’t.”

  
“I don’t think I ever said thank you for coming here,” Robb began. “You could be home with Sansa, but you came for me and our father even if he never gave you half of what you wanted.”  
Jon knew what Robb was implying. Ned Stark was a great father to him. If he had been fathered by any other lord, they would have left him or never claimed him. Ned Stark had brought him home, had raised him side by side by his true-born siblings. Yet, Ned Stark had never given him the Stark name. If Jon had any resentments towards his father it was just that. A name is just a name as long as its anything but a bastard one. Even now as a Lord, Jon herd the nickname the enemies called him, the Bastard Lord. He didn’t mind, but he did mind that his wife would be known as the woman that had married the Bastard Lord.

  
“Father did his best,” Jon stated.

  
Robb sighed. “You’ll have to do better though.”

  
“We both will,” Jon amended. Ned Stark may be the man they respect most in the world, but, they were grown men. Both he and Robb knew their father was not without his faults. However, he did his best. If Ned Stark was there at the moment, he would tell them the very same, to do better then him. Jon knew he would never stray from his wife, and he would treat all his children the same. Robb would be then he feared that would struggle with fidelity. Already it seemed that Robb’s future Frey wife would not be a woman he cared for, but Robb had a duty, and unlike their father he would have to be better, a war depended on it.

* * *

Catelyn Stark had never cared for Jon Snow. A part of her had always worried that Jon would try to take her Robb’s place in the line of succession to Winterfell. Even though Robb was older then Jon by a few months, he had never looked like a Stark, but Jon looked so much like Ned it was painstaking now, but it inspired loyalty in the Northern men. However, Jon wasn’t King in the North, but instead, he was Lord of the Vale now, and her kin by law it seemed. The bastard she had hated so much was now not only her husband’s son but her niece’s husband. No matter how little she cared for Jon, her children had always loved him, and her niece who had been like a daughter to her for so many years had gone off and married him. Despite her own understanding of how childish it was to still hate him for the way he came into the world after he had brought his men to Robb’s cause, Catelyn Stark still couldn’t bring her self to care for Jon Snow. 

“You want to legitimatize Jon?” Catelyn questioned in shock. It had been weeks since the knights of the Vale had arrived, at twenty thousand strong and fresh supplies, her son was pretty much invisible it seemed like. While she had been off treating with Renly, the two brothers had been busy at work, they had sent some of the Vale men to back up Edmure Tully and a group of hardy Northern warriors had been sent to Blackfish who needed men who were willing to engage in gruesome battle. Jon had proved his loyalty to her son and had even bent the knee and swore the Vale was now apart of the Northern Kingdom, but in her mind, nothing could ever prove Jon’s loyalty to her son.

  
“Mother, he is the reason why we are winning this war,” Robb answered. They were alone in his tent, which had become a rarity since Jon arrived. Jon was determined to win this war fast, and although Catelyn shared the same sentiment, it was easy to see Jon was perhaps the better warrior of the two brothers. In her mind, Jon was Robb’s competition. The Northern lords had named her son King in the North, and they could as easily swear loyalty to Robb’s bastard brother and do the same.

  
“If your father wanted him to legitimatize he would have done so, years ago,” Catelyn argued back. “He is a bastard, not even giving him the Stark name will change that.”

  
Robb's eyes darkened as took the quill from the ink pot. He was sitting at his desk and before him the papers that would not only grant Jon the Stark name but a spot in the line of succession for Winterfell and the title of Prince. “Jon is my brother, we were raised side by side,” Robb stated as he signed his name to the paper.

  
“He could take the crown from you if he wanted to,” the words slip from her mouth and she can tell her son is disappointed with her words. “Jon is married to a powerful woman, a woman who has a child on the way and twenty-thousand men in battle right now and more waiting to be called upon. You may call him your brother but I see him for what he is, a threat.”

  
Robb stood and glared at him. “Jon is not a threat. He is a not like most men, Mother. Jon could have turned a blind eye to our cause, he could have ensured Sansa was never to see an ounce of the power that is hers, but Jon didn’t,” Robb paused. “He is my father’s son, and it is my father’s blood that made me King and not yours.”

  
Never once had her son said such harsh words to her, but she knows it to be true. The men respected the son of Eddard Stark because they respected him, she was no Sansa Arryn with the claim to men, but a mother to powerful children. “I suppose giving Jon a proper title will make the Vale men happy.”

  
“He already has a proper title,” Robb snipped. “You are the only one here that hasn’t taken to calling him ‘My Lord’.”

  
Catelyn frowned. It was true that she simply referred to calling Jon by his given name like she always had before. Despite his last name still being Snow, even the Northernmen took up paling him Lord Snow and the Vale men treated him with the respect that she had only seen them give Lord Jon Arryn. From the whispers she heard, apparently, the Vale men were thankful that Jon had married Sansa. The saw him as a savior, freeing the Vale from her sister’s hand and a future under Ser Harry.

  
“I do not see you using formalities around him,” Catelyn stated, knowing her defense was a weak one.

  
“We are brothers, there is no need for formality,” her son clipped out. “Are you still so hurt by father’s transgression, one that is over twenty years old now, that you can’t move on? Father made one error in your marriage, and that is better then any other Lord you could have been married to!”

  
“I know that! I know I am a selfish and terrible person, but it will always hurt me that the man I loved, cared for another enough to bring home their child. I was supposed to be the only one to hold the honor of being the mother to your father’s children, and he took that from me,” Catelyn angrily let out.

  
Robb was quiet for a few moments and looked down at the paper, and then slowly met her eyes again. “No, Mother, you took that from yourself the day you decided you could never love Jon like the rest of us. Father wanted you to be his mother, if he hadn’t, he would have left Jon with his,” he added so slowly.

  
Suddenly, Catelyn Stark realized her boy’s words were the truth. Ned had never claimed Jon’s mother to be dead, he had simply just brought the boy home. Never once had he mentioned that he wished for her to be a mother to the boy, but Ned had been clear that his children would be raised by side. Oh, her husband had so badly wished that she would love Jon like a mother, she was just too foolish to see it and he was too honorable to ask her for such a thing.

* * *

Sansa sat on her lounge chair in her solar, her had absentmindedly running over her round belly. Although it seemed just like yesterday that she discovered she was with child, in reality, it had been a few moons. At almost six moons gone, Sansa still felt terrible most of the time. Most days, Sansa could barely get up out of bed. The fever she had suffered from in the beginning of pregnancy had never faded, Mastear Dillion was alarmed by the fact, but Sansa had decided that the baby made her body run a little warmer than most. Yet, along with fever came the constant dizziness that had not faded like many claimed it would, and her aversion to certain foods only grew. More importantly, her longing for Jon grew with each day. It seemed so long since she last saw him. How she missed her husband and wished that he was here to feel their little one kick inside of her belly.

“Lady Sansa,” Master Dillion ran into her chambers, and it was clear he was out of breath. “Your Lady Mother has gone missing,” he stated.

  
Sansa groaned. Her mother had not taken well to being kept contained in her chambers and it well known that Lysa hated the fact that she had to be followed around the keep when she out of her chambers. Whoever helped her mother leave, would face consequences. “Call for Ser Harry’s men, and send a raven to the Gate of the Moon and the Bloody Gate she could not have gotten far,” Sansa instructed.

  
Sansa had never really cared for her mother. The only thing Lysa had done for was a provided Sansa an example of exactly the type of mother she would not be. Sansa was determined to be a good mother. As she watched Master Dillion scrambled out of her room, she knew she would be a good mother. The Maester kept telling her not to get her hopes. He constantly claimed that a young, healthy girl like herself should not be so sickly throughout her pregnancy. The last time he examined her, he claimed he feared that if she did deliver a child, the delivery would kill her as the pregnancy had so many ill effects on her. Sansa did not care, all she wanted was a healthy babe who would know its father. Although she was not evil. Sansa secretly hoped wherever her mother was that she would not come back. As her child would be better off not ever meeting its grandmother.

* * *

The war was turning into chaos. Although they were winning battles, there was distrust on the Northern camp. Jon knew things turned sour the moment Robb announced he had married Talisa, and when Jamie Lannister had escaped with Lady Catelyn’s knight she had brought back with her from the Stormlands. Robb was so intent on going further and further South, he had lost his reasoning. Although he knew his brother was a good leader, Jon knew it was time to cut their losses and secure the lands they had gained in the Rivverlands and return North. 

Winterfell had been taken by Theon of all people. Theon, a person who both he and Robb had trusted, had gone to their home and taken it as his own. Theon had always been a bit of an ass, but Jon had never thought he would be capable of such treachery. The war was never supposed to reach Winterfell, its beautiful lands and the castle’s grounds were supposed to be untouched by the war. The war was supposed to be against the south and the Lannisters, it was a mistake to send Theon to the Iron Islands. The Iron Islands had no idea of what loyalty meant, but his brother had hoped Theon would remember how he was raised by their father. However, Theon had embraced his real family and their disgusting way of life and now Winterfell was taken and his baby brothers were dead. Bran and Rickon were supposed to stay safe during this war, but marching south had only left the undefended in Winterfell. They were just boys they should have never been left alone, and because they were, his brothers paid the ultimate price with their lives. Everything seemed lost to Jon now, the cause was worthless as it was just costing lives without any real results.

  
Although Jon knew his honor held him to his brother’s cause, he slightly wondered what the cause was becoming. The Lannisters had only sent false claims of Arya still residing in King’s Landing. No news of her even being seen in the capital had been heard, and while Lady Stark in her grief and perhaps anger released Jamie Lannister, Jon knew in his heart that his sister was not in King’s Landing. Jon's thoughts were only confirmed after news the Joffrey would be married to the Tyrell girl after her family came to their side. Most of all, Jon knew his little sister, he knew Arya better than perhaps Robb. Arya was wild and one with the wind, she would have taken off the first chance she gotten, and the tiny thing that she was would easily be able to slip away from knights in heavy armor. Arya was out there in wind somewhere, and the further they marched south, Jon knew the further they were from the original meaning of their cause. They were supposed to march south for his family return, but, there was no one in South to give back anymore.

  
Robb was a King now, and Jon began to think that the power was getting to him. Jon could tell the power was beginning to flow through Robb when his brother gave him the title Prince. They were Northern, they had no need for flashy titles, but yet is brother was beginning to more like a southern king without a cause. The Iron Throne could easily be his brother’s, but Jon knew nothing good came from a Stark being in the South. They should turn home while they had the chance. In the pit of his stomach, Jon was losing hope. Hope that he would see his wife again. Hope was a fickle thing though. He had hoped for a lot in his life, and those hopes had never come true. Now, with the marriage pact with the Freys broken as Robb had married Talisa acting like a boy with no responsibilities, Jon feared the worse.

Sansa may never see him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this was not as quick as the past updates. I have a ton of ideas for this story, and between constantly debating on what is a good idea and everyday life, I just haven't been able to write a good chapter lately. However, thank you so much for all the kudos and comments. I know I haven't been able to go back and respond to many comments individually, but I love you and all your feedback! 
> 
> Thanks for reading this chapter and I hoped you enjoyed it!


	9. Chapter 9

  
Chapter Nine

The sickening feeling of her stomach twisting in knots caused Sansa to hold back a groan. The babe that was currently residing in her stomach, her the babe which was her only connection with her husband at the moment, gave her no time for rest and neither did her title. As a Lady in her own right over her own holdings, Sansa had no choice but to sit upon her chair in the throne room and await an audience with her mother, and her husband. Two weeks after her mother had somehow managed to slip out of the Eyrie and the Gates of the Moon undetected, she came back a wedded woman. Lisa had gone off and married Petyr Baleish, who in Sansa’s mind was an enemy. She did not what Baleish wanted out of a marriage to her mother as once they were returned to the Eyrie, Sansa had them confined to a small wing of the Keep under heavy guard, but Sansa knew she could not trust him. Baleish had lived under the Lannister court for too long and had even accepted title from the false king in the south. Sansa did not care for having Lord Baleish in her keep, but, she knew at the end of the day it was better to keep the enemy in sight than to turn them loose into the world.

  
“My Lady Arryn,” Lord Baleish said as he dipped his head cordially. Sansa had met him once, she had been young and it was weeks before she was ultimately sent away from King’s Landing. Baleish had just been appointed as Master of Coin, but even years ago, Sansa had a weary feeling about him. Standing next to him, her mother, stood smirking as if she had some alternate motive.

  
“Lord Baleish,” Sansa stated. “After hearing the news, of you and my mother’s union, I assumed you are traveling back to King’s Landing and your false king.” Her voice was stern and grim, most likely because she was not just annoyed, but pregnant and annoyed.

  
Baleish stiffened, just noticeably enough for Sansa to pick up on his movement. “I no longer serve the false, King Joffrey.”

  
“Do you choose to serve my good brother then?” Sansa didn't even give him a chance to answer. Baleish may be good with managing coin, but, he held no soldiers to win a battle. “Let me answer that for you, Lord Baleish, you are an enemy to the Northern Kingdom, and you and your wife will be held in custody in the Vale, until King Robb may dispense justice on your case.”

  
“What are his crimes?!” Lysa yelled taking steps towards her.

  
Sansa rose, her legs shaking underneath her heavy dress. “He served the false king, watched while my Uncle was beheaded, and married my mother without permission from me, the head of your household.”

  
“Lady Sansa,” Lord Baleish began. “I tried to help your Lord Uncle, but in my defense-

  
“Take him and my mother and confine them to her chambers!” Sansa snapped, not wanting to hear any excuses or falsehoods

  
Several of her knights wasted no time in escorting her mother and Lord Baleish out of her sight. Sansa slowly sat down on her seat, out of breath and her mind swirling. “I need to retire to my chambers,” Sansa said to no one in particular, as she felt her eyes growing heavy. As heard the faint chorus of her name being said as she felt her vision go black.

* * *

 

The moment that Maester Dillion confirmed she was with child, Sansa knew she would do anything to keep her child growing inside of her. However, the House of Arryn was not known for its fertility. While her father had several children in his previous marriages, they had all died or not made it birth. Lisa had only two successful pregnancy, and Sansa herself had been the only babe to grow into a young adult. Every inch of Sansa’s hearth hoped that she had not inherited her family’s tendency to have fertility issues. Hope was not enough to change the fact her pregnancy was not an easy one. At first, she had been elated that her stomach began to swell and she could feel the slight flutter of a little being in her womb.

  
“My Lady,” Meastar Dillion began as her eyes fluttered open. “I fear you fainted again and your fever has spiked, I must beg you to rethink taking some moon tea, your not yet to far gone.”

  
At four moons gone, Sansa knew it was a risky option to take moon tea, but for her, it wasn’t an option. Jon was risking his life on the battlefield and she would risk her life in the birthing bed. Sansa knew the risk of her death was high, and she could live with that, but she had a realm to think of. “Meastar Dillion, what are the chances of my child surviving me?”

  
“If you adhere to the strict bedrest I recommend and if we are able to keep you fever low, I believe there is a slight chance that your child may live after birth,” Mastar Dillon answer with a painful look on his face. “I have sent a raven with a list of your symptoms to the Citadel in the hope they may shed some light, but, they have yet to send a reply.”

  
Sansa nodded and she carefully rubbed her stomach. If something happened to her and her child the Vale would be left to Harry. If she and her child both died, Jon would be nothing but a bastard to the world again, and her cousin Robb would lose the Vale forces. “Is Lord Royce still here?” Sansa asked, knowing Lord Royce had escorted her mother personally to the Eyrie.

  
“Yes My Lady,” Master Dillion supplied.

  
“I would like to meet with him, tell him to come quickly as he can,” Sansa stated as she shifted to rest herself against the headboard. Thoughts were swirling through her head as she thinking of her next course of action. While Ser Harry was seemingly harmless, Sansa knew Ser Harry would not be a good leader. More than likely he would live out his ways of bedding common women and never wed a proper life and leave the Vale without an heir once again. See Harry wanted the prestige and luxury of being Lord Paramount and not the responsibility.

  
“Lady Arryn,” Lord Royce bowed after entering her chamber. “Maestar Dillion told me you wished to speak with me,” He added.

  
Sansa gestured for Lord Royce to take a seat in the chair next to her bed. “Lord Royce as you know I am with child and it has not been an easy time for me,” she paused as she formed her next words. “If something is to happen to me, I do not wish for the Vale to pass on to Ser Harry and I asking you if the other Lords would support his claim.” 

Lord Royce shook his head. “No, I for one would not, nor the other families. Ser Harry has spent his time here fathering more bastards while our men are at war.”

  
Sansa took a heavy sighed. “If something were to happen to me and my child, I wish that my husband is named my heir, and his heirs will take his place one day.”

  
“My Lady, nothing will happen to you,” Lord Royce claimed.

  
“We don’t know that My Lord,” Sansa replied as she caressed her small bump. “I wish you to write a will for me, and as soon as possible I would like you and another trustworthy Lord to witness my signing of it.”

  
Lord Royce slowly nodded. “My Lady, I will do what you have asked and although I don’t think it will come to, rest assure I will ensure Lord Snow becomes the acting lord of the Vale, before Ser Harry.”

  
Jon Snow was never meant to be just a bastard, and Sansa would ensure that he would never be just the simple man that society expected of him. Jon Snow would keep her people safe and would continue her legacy if need be, not because he was her husband, but Jon was one of the few good men alive in the world. 

* * *

Bran and Rickon were dead. The words kept repeating in his head, and Robb hated himself for ever calling his banners. His brothers were dead, and Winterfell had been torched, and his armies were slowly but surely dismantling. Even with the help of the Vale men Jon had brought with him, he had lost the Freys because of his marriage to Jeyne. As much as he wanted to believe he was making the right choice Robb knew he had made many mistakes. One of those mistakes was leaving the North so undefended, which Jon had always told him was not the right choice. His brother had managed to convince him to spare Lord Karstark, and at first, Robb had felt humiliated when his brother and order the guards to remove the Lord from the block. Yet, once over the humiliation of his own soldiers not listening to him, Robb realized the mistake he almost made. Now he was faced with a decision that could change the course of the way. Lord Frey was willing to rejoin their side if his Uncle Edmure would marry one of the many Frey daughters. Jon was wary of the idea and was urging him to pull out of the Riverlands, take back the North, and hold to their lands with an iron grip. Jon had given up hope that Arya was still in Kings Landing, and Robb was starting to believe it as well. Yet, he would never forgive himself if he returned from his southern march if his sister was still in Kings Landing underneath the control of the Lannisters.

  
“Let Stannis fight the Lannisters in the south,” Jon would say. “You’re King in the North, stay in the North,” he would add. “Forget about the Riverlands, the Lannisters won’t bother us as long as we stay above the Neck."

  
Jon was a better commander then he was, but he also wanted the war ended so he could go back to the Vale to his wife. Sansa, who was like Robb’s own sister, and he knew Jon wanted nothing more to then to be back with Sansa. He had watched them for so many years be so in love but never acting on their affections that now that they were married, it was obvious that Jon wanted nothing more to simply be with his wife. It was odd to think that his brother, who had wanted to be a brother of the Night’s Watch, was now Lord of Vale and husband to his cousin. Jon had taken to the role of Lord, easily, and Robb silently wished sometimes he could just hand him the bloody crown and tell him to rule. As he leaned back in the chair that he was sitting out in his tent, he realized that if he were to die like Bran and Rickon, he needed the North to be secure. Taking a quill and a piece of parchment, Robb began to write.

  
_I, Robb Stark, son of Eddard Stark and Catelyn Tully, the King of the North and Lord of Winterfell declare the following actions to take place after my death:_  
 _The Northern Armies will pledge fealty and loyalty to Jon Stark; once referred to Jon Snow of Winterfell, Lord of Vale and Eyerie and husband of Lady Sansa Arryn. They will be under his command as they_ were undermine _._  
 _Furthermore, Jon Stark Lord of the Vale and Eyrie will succeed me as King in the North, and any of his children who will follow after him._  
 _If I have no sons, Jon Stark will succeed me as Lord of Winterfell. I wish for my children to be heirs of Winterfell, but Jon would follow after any of my children in the line of succession for the Lordship of Winterfell._  
 _Arya Stark, my sister, will not be allowed to inherit Winterfell or the North. Nor will any of her children will be allowed in the line of any succession for the North or Winterfell. This may be undone by any King of the North after me, only if Arya has returned a free woman to the North._  
 _Above all, I name Jon Stark, heir to the North. Furthermore, if he chooses to take it, I give him the name Stark, as Stark blood runs through his veins and is as much Stark as I am._  
 _I sign these to declarations to be true and made willingly and in a clear mind,_  
 _ **ROBB STARK, KING IN THE NORTH**_

  
Robb let out a sigh of relief. If he were to die, he knew the North would be in good hands. Jon would not let Winterfell crumble, and the Vale would forever be tied to the North with Sansa as Jon’s wife. He sincerely hoped, the will would not come to use, that he would die an old man in Winterfell like his father should of. But Robb was no fool, there was a war going on, and he needed to start making better decisions.

* * *

  
The first thing that escapes her throat in the morning is a loud scream, her sheets are drench in red seeping from the spot in between her legs. It was not the familiar red of her moonblood, for she had not had it in eight moon turns. For months she had prepared to go into labor, but Sansa knew blood before labor pains was not a good sign. After struggling for months to keep her child inside of her, it seemed her worse fear was coming true. The babe she loved so much was not going to see its first day. A guard and maid rushed into her room. The maid gasped and ushered the guard way, shouting orders that a master and midwife be called for without hesitation. Sansa cried as she waited for the midwife to come. The handmaiden had urged her to drink water and calm down, but it was no help. She could feel her child slipping away from her, there was no way to help her child.

  
Hours had slipped by, and the pain she knew it was one she did not know existed.When it came time to push, she was exhausted and when the babe slipped out from her she was not awarded the cries of a newborn babe. The midwife tried to keep the babe wrapped in blankets and away from her as if it didn’t exist. However, her baby did exist. After much protested, the stillborn babe was placed in arms. Her babe was a boy, her own little boy. Sansa wasn’t sure how long they let her hold it before the meastar insisted they take the babe to be prepared to be buried, yet she would never forget its precious face. Her mind could so easily make out the plump cheeks and little nose that was undeniably her husband’s, and the faint whips of light hair that perhaps could have turned red or black one day if the babe had lived.   
The only comfort in Jon being gone for the past few months was that she had his child in her, and now she had failed. He was off risking her life to avenge his father and her uncle ’s death and to secure the independence of the North. It had been his one hope that he might return home to a child, and she thought she would be able to deliver that hope. She was wrong. Slowly crossing the room, Sansa made her way to her small desk. Jon needed to know she lost the child.

  
_Dearest Jon,_  
 _We had a son. Eddard, I named him after your father, hoping his grandfather would more easily find him and look after him in the afterlife. Our babe died before he entered this world Jon, and I held him for a few moments. He was perfect, Jon. So perfect._  
 _Our sweet baby, looked nothing like I imagined him to Jon. I didn’t see his eyes, but the septa who prepared him for burial claimed he had the most beautiful eyes. A shade of blue, she claimed they look violet. Eddie’s hair hadn’t turn colors yet, just_ whisps _of light hair that maybe one day would have been as dark as yours are as bright of mine._  
 _I miss you, come home to me._

  
Sansa stopped writing and began to weep. All she wanted to do was write for him to come home, she needed him her, with her. All her life she had been prepared for the dangers of the birthing bed, but not once had anyone ever mentioned the pain of surviving a child. All her eyes could see was the image of what her child should have been. Oh,how Sansa wanted a little boy, a boy with Jon’s looks so she could have a piece of her husband with her. A boy that would never be sent to foster anywhere and would live under the loving eyes of his parents. Eddard would have been the most loved baby to ever had existed, and yet he would only be loved in death.

* * *

  
Jon took a deep breathe that was nothing but cold air as he looked out at the vast tents that covered the area around him. His hand gripped the parchment in his hand tight, and he forced his eyes close for a second, to hide the tears that were forming in his eyes. It seemed like yesterday raven had come, informing him and Robb that Winterfell had fallen and Bran and Rickon were dead. He had lost his brothers yesterday, due to a stupid war he saw no point in anymore. Nothing would bring his father back, and the Lannisters had not been able to prove they had Arya in Kings Landing, leading him to believe his sister was not in their clutches but either with their father or somewhere free. The war had cost them too much, and now as he opened his eyes, he realized that it was time to return to the Vale.

  
“Jon, what are you doing out here?” Lady Catelyn stood behind his brother, and Jon could tell neither of them slept either. “Was there another raven from Winterfell?” Robb questioned as he looked at the parchment in his hand.

  
“From Sansa,” he murmured not wanting to talk to either of them.

  
“Is she well?” Lady Stark spoke, and Jon could feel the lump in his throat forming.

  
Sansa wasn’t well. The babe she announced she carried to him months ago had been lost. That letter had been a joyous one, she had rattle of names for boys and girls, and had told him she was doing fine despite being terribly sick the past two months. Jon had been happy, for one of the few times in his life, he broke out in a smile, because he was going to be a father. He would share a child with Sansa, they would have little being that proved to the world that they loved each other. If it were a girl he didn’t care, and if it were a boy he would teach him to protect his sisters and his mother. However, the Gods seemed to take their happiness away from them. The pregnancy had been a hard one, and when it came time for Sansa to give birth, the babe did not survive as the newest raven from the Eyerie claimed.

  
“Jon, has something happen to the Vale?” Robb questioned. Concern was written all over his brother’s face, and Jon knew he probably thought that Vale had been attacked. It hadn’t been yet, but, Jon knew it would be a short time before the Lannisters tried to do something to his new land. If Robb lost the Vale men, he would lose most of his army.

  
“Sansa, the babe was born dead,” Jon managed to say, and Robb frowned. Next, to him, he saw Lady Catelyn tear up, and then the next thing he knew her arms were around him.

  
Lady Stark had never hugged him before. “It happens,” she paused. “You write to her and tell her it’s not her fault,” she said before pulling away. Her eyes were stern, and he knew Lady Catelyn had not hugged him but had hugged Sansa in a way.

  
“It’s my fault, I should not have left her,” Jon said looking at Robb. All his anger from the war was being channeled to his brother’s actions. Robb was a fine leader, but he was not without his mistakes. “You need to decide what this war is about, Robb. Do you want to be King of Westeros, or is King in the North enough for you?”

  
“Jon, I-

  
“Arya isn’t in Kings Landing, they won’t confirm it. Winterfell is lost, and if I had it my way we turn the troops North, take back what is ours and prepare for Winter. This is foolishness, Robb! We can’t fight a war if Winter is coming, and if we stay above the Neck they’ll never touch us!” He yelled, he didn’t care if all the men in the world heard him.

  
Robb took a step forward, his lips frowning. “They killed our father!”

  
“And we can’t bring him back!” Jon argued back. “We could kill them all, and it wouldn’t bring him back, and it wouldn’t bring Bran or Rickon back! Or Arya!Or my son!” He exclaimed, seeing Robb’s eyes soften at the added fact, he had a son. “The further south we go, there isn’t going to be any of us left! I am telling you to pull back!”

  
“I am King!”

  
Jon took a step forward. “I am Lord of The Vale, and my men make up a majority of this army and I have more in the mountains waiting for their ravens,” Jon said firmly, he had it with this war. Despite is original thoughts of the Knights of the Vale, they were good men. The longer they stayed fighting by his side, the less would return. His family was not the only family to lose a father in this war, and if he could save someone that pain he would. “I will take my men North and save Winterfell, and then I will go to my wife in the mountains and I will not participate in this foolishness anymore. I have lost a father, a sister, two brothers, and now a son, because of this war Robb. I am done losing good people.”

  
Jon walked away, leaving behind a stunned Robb. Perhaps, his brother would see it his way. Maybe Robb would listen to reason, leave behind the Riverlands and treat North so he could simply rule over the lands that were rightfully loyal to him. Although the Tullys were Robb’s kin, they were too southern by nature to truly belong in a Northern kingdom. Robb could hold the North, and he and Sansa would be loyal to him. However, he could not stand by and let his brother become land hungry. It was time for a Stark to return to Winterfell, and if Robb would not do it, him and his bastard Stark blood would.

* * *

 

“You were right,” Robb said as he entered his brother’s tent. “We can’t bring our family back,” he added as Jon stopped sharpening his sword and look up at him.   
Jon laid his sword down on the cot next to him. The sword was probably his brother’s most beloved possession, it was a wedding present from Sansa. Originally it was House of Mormount’s ancestral sword, but Lord Commander Mormount at the Wall had given it to Jon Arryn to thank him for always remembering to send men and supplies to the Wall during his time as Hand.

  
“Are we going home then?” Jon asked looking at him.

  
“You are,” Robb answered as he took a few more steps in the tent. “Edmure Tully will marry Roslin Fray, I will have to attend the wedding feast to make up for breaking the pact to him in the first place,” he paused. “You will take the armies North, and I’ll keep about four, five thousand men and station them in our strongholds in the Riverlands after the wedding and come find you North.”

  
Jon stood and put his hand on his shoulder. “You’re making the right decision, brother. Winterfell cannot be without a Stark, and you are the last Stark.”

  
Robb sighed, he was not the last Stark. Jon was just as much as Ned Stark’s son as he was, perhaps, even more. “You are a Stark as well brother, don’t ever forget that,” he said. Although, Jon's children would be Arryns, the Stark name was rightfully his.

  
“Father would be proud of you, Robb,” Jon stated.

  
No, Robb thought, their father would not be proud of some of his actions. Father was probably looking down at them and thinking of how Jon should have been King in the North, he took to this conflict better then he did. “And he would be proud of you, I don’t think he could believe that you finally had the balls to ask Sansa for her hand.”  
Jon smirked, “You still can’t get over I rode off with the girl, even know that you have your own wife.”

  
“My cousin is like another sister, and I never thought anyone would be good enough for her or Arya,” Robb began, but he knew he needed to tell his brother something. “I am sorry about the babe, Jon,” the words hung in the air. His own wife had just become with child, and Robb had thought their children would grow up as brothers.

  
“His name is Eddard, or was,” Jon said. “I had a son, and I wasn’t here to see him. I’ll never know what he looked like, I’ll never get to hold him in my arms.”

  
It was fitting that his nephew was named Eddard. Perhaps his father had found his first-born grandchild and was taking care of what would have been the most precious child of the seven kingdoms. If little Eddard would have lived, Robb knew he would have loved his nephew. After the war, he would have even offered to foster the young boy when the time came for his darling nephew to be sent away. The grief was hitting him in an unexpected way, Eddard was his brother’ son and if he had not called his banners Robb would have been able to meet the boy himself. A father had been lost, and now a son had been lost, and nothing would make either of those terrible tragedies right.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading this story! I had this idea running through my head and I thought I post to see if anyone else would enjoy it!


End file.
